Olivier the Reluctant Angel
by Etaleah
Summary: When Roy and Riza are unable to carry a baby full term after several attempts, they turn to a surrogate as their last hope. The surrogate is young, healthy, fertile...and Olivier Armstrong. What starts as a somewhat-forced favor to Riza quickly turns into a funny roller coaster of ups and downs as Olivier goes through the adventure of carrying Mustang's kid. HAS BEEN EDITED.
1. Chapter 1

**PLEASE give me feedback on this story and tell me what you liked/didn't like about it. I love writing Olivier but I find her difficult to get right. There isn't really a specific time frame for this story. Basically all you need to know is this: Grumman is Fuhrer, the Promised Day is over, Miles and Roy are in Ishval, and Roy and Riza are ready to start their family (Royai is established in this story). The one thing I did change was that Buccaneer lives and did not die in the Promised Day. Yes, I deliberately altered one vital canon plot point. Sue me. Come on guys, Miles is in Ishval and ****_someone_**** has to be the adult supervision for our favorite Major General. XD**

This was all Riza's fault.

Well, hers and Fuhrer Grumman's, anyway.

"Oh Olivier! You're so _sweet _to do that for them!"

"Oh Olivier! You must be an angel sent from heaven!"

"Oh Olivier! You have no idea what a _tremendous _sacrifice you're making!" Oh yes she did. She knew _exactly _what a huge sacrifice this was. And she did not like it.

"Oh Olivier! We can't thank you enough!" You got that right, sister. Never in a million years would anything compensate for this.

And yet, here she was.

In the one situation she would never have imagined herself in even in her worst nightmares.

Olivier was barefoot and pregnant.

And single.

In the kitchen.

Of the Armstrong mansion.

In the city that stunk of corruption.

Miles away from Briggs.

Wearing a dress.

And hating everyone.

Now it wasn't really the pregnancy that bothered her. No, as a matter of fact that was going fairly well even though she was only two and half weeks along. No morning sickness, tummy still flat, still plenty of energy. Olivier was in the kitchen of her own free will; it had been her pigheaded idea to try and cook breakfast for herself to prove to her family that just because she was pregnant, it didn't mean she was helpless (which later backfired as she burned everything, even the water she was boiling). And the dress, though she hated to admit it, was actually very comfortable. It was a sleeveless bright blue sundress that matched her eyes and was just the right length. It wasn't see-through or low-cut, it was thin and soft, and didn't restrict her movements (much). And, though Olivier would NEVER admit this to ANYONE, she rather…enjoyed…the feeling of the swish against her legs, especially where the dress ended just above her knees. Plus it was much easier to go to the bathroom now, which was kind of important in a pregnancy. Yes, if dresses were Olivier's thing, this was what she would go for. Her mother had chosen well.

No, it wasn't the dress or the burned food (that was her own fault after all) that was making Olivier want to kill something. It wasn't even the fact that she was pregnant.

It was the fact that she was pregnant…with _Mustang's _kid. And _no one _bothered to tell her about it until just last night!

"That prick!" she growled, snapping a toothpick in half. "I'll kill him. That is if I don't kill Riza and Grumman first." _Snap! _Another toothpick was gone. "It's no wonder she wouldn't tell me where the sperm was coming from." _Snap! _"I can't believe I actually agreed to this! What the hell was I thinking?" _Snap! Snap! Snap!_

"You were thinking that this is a nice thing to do and that you're on a paid vacation anyway, so why not?" Olivier ignored the goofy grin on her younger brother's face. As he marched into the kitchen and attempted to keep her focus on breaking toothpicks. After she'd lost her temper about a month ago and sent a private to the hospital by socking him a good one right in the face, Grumman and the higher-ups were convinced she needed a healthy stress reliever and ordered her to try various methods, saying that if she didn't they would file charges. First they tried to get her to, of all things, squeeze a rubber duck with an obnoxiously loud squeaker. Yeah, right. As if the Ice Queen of Briggs was going to carry a dang _toy _around with her. Then Lieutenant Havoc had suggested breaking toothpicks, saying it worked for him sometimes after a hard day at work. Olivier had been rather surprised at how satisfying and calming it felt, the snapping sound reminiscent of breaking bones, and since then had tried to always keep a box nearby. In the two weeks since becoming pregnant, she'd gone through about eight of them.

"I should not" –snap-"be on a vacation." Snap. Snap."Paid or otherwise." Snap."My fort _needs_ me!" Snap. Snap. Snap. Snap.

"Wasn't it you who said that you had trained your men to be ready for anything?" Alex reminded her as he sat down at the kitchen counter. "And Sister, shouldn't you be sitting down?" He nearly fell out of his seat upon seeing the death glare she shot him. It was chillingly similar to the bears that roamed the outside of her ice palace. Suddenly he felt very, very grateful for those toothpicks.

"I cannot _believe _Fuhrer Grumman dragged me into this! That man should be fired for egregious nepotism and for interfering in his subordinate's affairs!"

"Olivier, is it really so terrible of him to want to help his granddaughter? You saw how grateful Lieutenant Hawkeye was, didn't you? She had tears in her eyes! Oh, it was so beautiful!" Olivier rolled her eyes as Alex dabbed at his eyes with an embroidered hankie.

"And it's so wonderful that you're helping her!" He jumped down and rushed toward her. Olivier turned and tried to run, but one of the many, _many _disadvantages of being pregnant was no sudden movements, no combat training, basically nothing fun. Alex caught her and lifted her up in a crushing backwards hug. Olivier grit her teeth, feeling her dress slide upwards a bit, and pinched at his bloated arms until he carefully set her down and patted her belly. Olivier shoved his hand away.

"You're revolting!" she spat and stalked out of the kitchen. "I'm going outside and don't you dare follow me!"

Olivier stepped out into the backyard, relishing the warm sun. She still wasn't quite used to the temperature-hell, it was actually above zero-but she loved being outside no matter what, and the Armstrong yard was breathtaking. It was surrounded by thousands of flowers in all colors, and there was a butterfly garden nearby that was revered all over the country. Not to mention it was the one place in Central that didn't reek of pollution.

Olivier treaded carefully over to the butterfly garden and lay back on one of the soft couches near the shade, listening to birds, bees and woodpeckers go about their routine. She stretched as far as she could and propped up her feet. The dress had hiked up and her legs were now spread, but honestly who cared? It wasn't like there was much to see considering she wore black boy shorts instead of panties. She closed her eyes and let out a soft sigh, relaxing. If there was a heaven like the Ishvalans talked about, which she doubted, this was what she would imagine it to be like.

Almost as if they had minds of their own, her hands drifted to her tummy and stayed there, caressing it absentmindedly. Becoming a surrogate mother was NOT something she'd had in mind when she'd planned to return to Central.

_"General Armstrong, what brings you here?"_

_"The Fuhrer sent me a letter demanding I take a paid vacation and I haven't been able to reach him by phone. I plan to ask him what this is all about and also deliver some paperwork from Briggs."_

_But when she'd walked into the office, the Fuhrer was standing next to Lieutenant Hawkeye, who was sitting in a chair. His hand was on her shoulder and both of them looked incredibly grim._

_"Why, Grandfather?" Riza whispered. "Why does this keep happening to me? First I was infertile and then I lost one and now I've lost another and I just…"_

_"I know, Riza. I'm so sorry. I wish there was something else I could do."_

_Olivier hesitated awkwardly in the doorway, wondering if maybe she should leave and come back later since clearly the Fuhrer was dealing with…er, issues. But she really didn't want to wait. She'd boarded a bloody train to come here and wanted this sorted out._

_"The doctor said I shouldn't even try anymore. He said…it could damage my health." She sighed and stared at the floor. "I wanted a baby so bad."_

_"Are you sure there's no other option? I know you didn't want to adopt, but…" Riza just shook her head. Grumman sighed. Olivier slowly inched her way back out the door, but accidentally banged against it and cursed under her breath._

_Their heads snapped up. "General?" Grumman called. Olivier stood at attention. "Ah yes…I figured you would come here after I sent that letter." He smiled weakly._

_"It's quite alright sir. I can come back later," she promised and turned to leave._

_"No no, don't go. You've come all this way, I won't make you wait. Just sit down and I'll be with you in a moment."_

_"Are you sure sir?" Olivier asked, glancing toward Riza, who looked near tears._

_"Yes, it's fine. I'll talk to you later, okay Riza?" She nodded and stood up. Olivier did feel some pity for her, she'd known Riza since she had first joined the military at seventeen and knew that she'd always wanted to be a mother._

_"Oh Riza!" Grumman snapped his fingers, his features lightening. "I just remembered! There is another option."_

_"What's that?" Riza's face immediately brightened just a tad._

_"What about a surrogate? I read about it in the paper, in the last several years doctors have perfected a technique that would let them take your egg and some sperm, make the embryo, and then insert it into the body of another young, healthy woman who carries the baby to term and gives it to the happy couple. I don't know all the scientific details, but there were plenty of success stories about it. Why don't you try that?"_

_Riza stopped in her tracks and thought for a moment. "It does sound good in theory…but what woman would be willing to do something so huge? That's such a monumental…I don't even know what to call it. Favor? Gift? Job? I don't know any woman like that."_

_Grumman looked at the ceiling, presumably in thought. Olivier sighed. This was wasting her time. Grumman's eyes immediately darted to her. "What about General Armstrong? She's fairly young, she's healthy, why not her?"_

_Olivier's eyes widened and her shoulders tensed. "Excuse me sir?" she snapped, her voice frostier than it should have been when directed at the ruler of the country._

_"I think you should carry Riza's baby! You're such a strong woman, pregnancy would be no problem for you!"_

_"Grandfather!" Riza exclaimed, mortified. "You can't ask her to do something like that!"_

_"Well, I am the Fuhrer," Grumman chuckled._

_"With respect, sir, I have a fort to run and a border to protect. While I am sympathetic to the Lieutenant's situation, I'm afraid I cannot help her." She was beginning to see why the old man was known as eccentric. Who did he think he was, asking her to do something like that? Why didn't he just ask her to wear a "For Rent" sign around her neck while he was at it?_

_"On the contrary, you have a year's worth of paid vacation time. And I know you came down here to argue that, well don't bother. It's a new labor law that all the higher-ups are insisting on, especially for people in the military. Anyone who has not taken more than a month off in five years is now required to do this. You, my dear, have never taken more than a week off in ten years. So you now have some spare time on your hands."_

_"Sir, my men need me. My country needs me. I cannot afford a year off."_

_"You can and they can. I have already ordered Briggs not to let you back in should you return before the year's end. You may deliver the paperwork they've sent, but after that you are required by law to utilize the time off. If you try to resist, I'll have some of my Central soldiers keep watch over you and make sure you're obeying the law." Olivier clenched her fists. Why the hell was he doing this? It wasn't any of his business how much time she did or didn't take off!_

_"Sweetheart, why not take a break? You've worked so hard, I think you've earned one. Now you have a year to relax and pursue other hobbies. Doesn't that appeal to you at all? Because it certainly would to me."_

_Olivier let out a huff. If it were anyone but the Fuhrer, she would have put up more of a fight, but he was the ruler of the country. "Fine. But I'm returning to Briggs immediately after the year's end." A whole year away from her home. What the hell was she supposed to do for a year?_

_"Good, good. Now about this baby business-"_

_"I have already given you my answer on that, sir."_

_"Well it's not like you have anything else to do. Why not help Riza out with a good deed?"_

_"Grandfather, please!" Riza chided. She turned to Olivier. "General, I apologize. It's not your responsibility to provide me with a child. You go and enjoy your vacation. Hopefully I'll see you again while you're here."_

_Olivier stood up. "Thank you Lieutenant. And I do hope you find someone suitable for your…cause."_

_Riza sighed. "I hope so too. The only women I would feel comfortable asking are in the military and they're all focused on their careers."_

_"Good luck." Olivier saluted and turned to go when Grumman stopped her._

_"Wait, General!"_

_"Yes, sir?"_

_"I have a proposition for you."_

_"What is it?"_

_"If you carry my great-grandchild, I will promote you two whole ranks and designate you as next in line to be fuhrer should something happen to me."_

_Olivier's heart raced. Promoted up to General of the Army, the highest rank possible, _and_ next in line for fuhrer? Opportunities like that never happened. But still, he was asking her to do the impossible._

_"Sir, while I would certainly like to achieve that status, I want to do it by my own merits and achievements, not because I did your granddaughter a favor."_

_"How about if I throw in five trillion cenz to the budget for weapons and supplies for Briggs?"_

_Olivier bit her lip, grateful she had her back to them. This was actually getting tempting. Her boys always needed more weapons and supplies, and five trillion cenz was nothing to sneeze at._

_"And I'll send you fifteen of Central's finest researchers for medicinal and arsenal development."_

_How did he know they desperately needed new researchers? Olivier truly hated this man. He knew her weaknesses._

_"Sir, I…I'm not a mother."_

_"You wouldn't have to be! The minute the kid pops out, he or she is no longer your responsibility! You've got a full year and the baby only needs nine months. Just carry it to term, pop that sucker out, and after a little bit of rest and recovery, you'll be free to go back home to your new researchers and five trillion cenz richer budget. And with a much higher rank to boot."_

_She whipped around. "Fuhrer sir, why does this have to be me?"_

_"Please, Olivier?" Riza said uneasily. "I want a baby so badly and you may be my only hope." What the? She sure changed quickly! Riza was supposed to be on Olivier's side!_

_"I promise I'll pay for all your medical bills and make sure you're well cared for. _Please_, General? You're the only healthy woman I know who isn't currently working. And like my grandfather said, there would be plenty in it for you." _

_Olivier looked helplessly between the two of them. Could she really do this? Could she actually get pregnant with someone else's child and give it up afterwards? The whole idea of pregnancy, especially a surrogate pregnancy, was just…weird. Strange. Getting fat with someone else's kid in your stomach and then shoving it out? It was never something Olivier had dreamed of. But Riza sure as hell had._

_"I-"_

_"Think of your fort, Olivier," Grumman reminded her. "Think of your boys up north. They could use the reward, couldn't they? And think how happy you'll have made Riza. Look at her."_

_Olivier turned around. The minute she saw Riza's face that reminded her of a kicked puppy, her heart sank. There was just no getting out of this._

_Olivier let out a huge sigh. "Alright. Fine. But let me make one thing clear. I am _not_ raising this kid. The second it comes out, it is your problem. Don't ask me to change any diapers."_

_Riza let out a breath. "You really will do it?"_

_"Yes, I'll do it," Olivier grumbled._

_"Oh Olivier, thank you!" Riza exclaimed, flashing her a smile big enough to drive a tank over. She resisted the urge to glare at Grumman, who was snickering and probably patting himself on the back for working it out so perfectly._

_"Thank you so much!"_

_"Whatever. Let's just get this over with."_

And that was how it happened. The next several days were a blur of legal contracts, talking to doctors, and exchanging information. Olivier had pressed Riza for details on where the sperm was coming from-as far as she knew Riza wasn't married or dating-and Riza had said it was from a random donor. The next thing she knew, she was lying on her back on an operating table, being anesthetized while the doctors did who knows what to get the baby inside her. When she woke up there was a monitor attached to her and she was surrounded by people smiling and saying the procedure had gone well. Other than that not much had happened since it was only two weeks and the baby was still too tiny to be noticed yet.

That is, nothing had happened until last night.

**So how'd I do? It wasn't supposed to end there, but I felt like this chapter was way too long already and I needed a stopping point. Again, please review. It doesn't have to be long, just a few quick sentences of brutal honesty. Please don't just favorite, I love those too but I also need to know WHY people liked it.**


	2. Chapter 2

Olivier had been on a rare shopping trip with her mother, Josephine, since she didn't have any summer clothes and got hot easily (thus why she was wearing a sundress now). After several hours of arguing over what looked good, what was practical, what was too girly or not girly enough, and whether or not to buy maternity clothes, they had plopped down, exhausted, into a booth at one of the best restaurants in Central. She'd wanted a drink so badly it hurt, but guess what? She couldn't drink because she was _pregnant._ Which put her in an even sourer mood as her mother ordered red wine, Olivier's favorite, for herself.

"Come on Mother, I'm sure one glass will be fine. The kid's not even really there yet."

"Olivier Mira, just because this baby isn't yours, that does not strip you of the responsibility of taking care of it. At least not while it's in _your _body."

"Not even one sip?"

"No!" Olivier rolled her eyes. If it weren't for the fact that her mother was always moaning and groaning about how they never spent any time together, she would have gone shopping by herself. She made a mental note not to listen to her mother's moaning and groaning from now on.

"There she is!" someone close by shouted. Before Olivier could look up, a man's arms were around her and wet lips were planting disgusting kisses on her cheek. "Thank you thank you thank you!"

Olivier shoved the intruder away and scooted closer to the wall. "Get off! Who do you…_Mustang? _What the hell are you doing here?"

"Olivier! Be nice!" Josephine scolded.

Olivier turned to her mother. "Did you not see what he just did? He sexually assaulted your own daughter and you don't even care!"

"Sorry General, he's just excited." Riza appeared behind him. "And half-drunk," she admitted. Well, that much was obvious. Mustang's eyes were sparkling and looked a little glazed, his smile took up half his face, and he was swaying a bit.

"What's he so excited about? And why is he here? I thought he was in Ishval with Miles."

"He was, but he took an extended leave so we could start our family."

"Oh, are you two married?" Josephine asked, her brows rising.

Riza leaned in close. "We are," she whispered, "Grandfather is working on getting the fraternization laws abolished, but there's a lot of red tape and paperwork that hasn't gone through yet so we still have to be careful. He promised us it would be finished by the time the baby's born though."

"Wait…wait a second." Olivier felt the color drain from her face. "You told me the sperm was coming from a random donor."

"That would be me!" Roy jerked his thumb toward himself. "Imma daddy gen'ral!"

The room was spinning. "Does that mean…_Mustang's_ the father?"

"Olivier!" they all hissed. "Keep your voice down!"

Riza must have seen the danger in Olivier's glare. She leaned in close, looking sheepish. "I'm really sorry I didn't tell you, but we couldn't take any chances. Besides Grandfather and I were afraid that since you hate him you would back out if you knew he was the father."

"I sure as hell would have backed out!" Olivier stood up. "I cannot believe you lied to me when I agreed to do you the biggest favor of your life!" She felt like she would throw up. Not only had Riza, her long-term ally and friend, lied to her face, but now Mustang's DNA was inside her, growing and feeding off her. It was sickening.

Josephine sighed. "Olivier, stop being such a drama queen. It's only nine months. I was pregnant five times and I was much younger than you. Not to mention I actually raised the babies. You, my girl, don't have it nearly so bad."

"And just think!" Roy cheered, slurring his words a bit. "When those nine months are up, you're gonna…uh…push and stuff…and then we're all gonna be a family!"

"Great," Olivier seethed. "Now go away. You're making me lose my appetite."

"How far along are you now?" Roy asked.

"Two and a half weeks," she growled.

Roy's eyes widened. "Already? Have you felt anything yet?" And then that dickweed made the mistake of putting his hands on her stomach. It was rather unfortunate that the restaurant did not keep toothpicks nearby.

* * *

Olivier snapped out of her reverie at the feeling of something on her nose. She opened her eyes and couldn't hold back a smile at the sight of a bright red butterfly on her nose, staring her down. When it folded its wings back, she noticed it had company. There were butterflies on her hands, her legs, her chest, and her stomach. She guessed they liked the scent of her mother's flowery-smelling lotion she'd used that morning. They had also been born in the garden and hadn't learned to fear people.

Olivier lay still for a while, watching the butterflies, soaking in the sun's warmth, a nice change from stinging winter winds, and enjoying her solitude. But after a while her feet went to sleep and her legs ached from being in the same position for so long, so she gently pushed the butterflies off and moved her legs, shaking her feet to wake them up. Then she frowned. There was one left. She hadn't noticed it because it was the same color as her dress and blended in. Actually it was beautiful. She'd never seen a blue butterfly before.

It was perched right on top of her navel, moving its wings back and forth and doing something with its legs (arms?). She admired the black stripes across its wings and its calm demeanor, then shifted slightly, hoping it would fly away. It didn't.

Hmpth. Stubborn thing. Well she would show it. Olivier got up, her bare feet sinking into the tall grass and soft earth. To her amazement, the blue butterfly was still there. She gently brushed it off with her hand, but it continued to fly around her stomach as though it were a flower. She paused. Was it possible the tiny insect could sense the life inside?

_No_, she thought as she moved inside and closed the door. _It's just the lotion._


	3. Chapter 3

"Guess who's coming home tomorrow?" Strongine asked proudly at the dinner table that night. Even though it was just the family, the atmosphere was as fanciful as ever: huge, luminous chandeliers; a white tablecloth over a dining table that could easily seat thirty; two of every utensil and napkins that could probably be used as blankets if the guests were small. Although she was more than used to eating like this at home, personally Olivier thought it was a bit much.

"Oh, please don't tell me the family's coming. Father, I don't know how you can tolerate all those fat money-grabbers who are racist, sexist, homophobic and a million other words I'll attempt to refrain from using." Olivier complained, picking at her fruit salad. Apparently that was one of the few "safe foods" for her to eat, and even though she loved fruit salad, she also loved fish, which her family was tormenting her with by eating it in front of her. For the next eight months and one week, fish was off-limits just like alcohol.

"Only your favorite sister," Catherine piped up. "You can bet she'll be all over you tomorrow. Oh my, this fish is good." She smiled slyly as she munched on hers. "It's a real shame you can't have any."

"Amue's returned from Ishval?" Olivier's fork stilled, trying to ignore Catherine. The desert region had been desperately seeking new volunteers, and Amue and Strongine had gone for a few months to help with clothes making, heavy lifting, and other odd jobs. Strongine had hated it and had suffered a minor injury, so she'd returned before too long. Amue, however, had stayed, saying it felt good to be needed even if the Ishvalans were afraid of her.

"Yes, and she's come home to stay!" Philip cheered from the head of the table. "She wrote saying she's been homesick and wishes to take some time off. Maybe a year, maybe more."

"It'll be so nice to have her home again," Josephine sighed, smiling and sipping at her soup. "It just doesn't feel right without her here."

Alex scratched his mustache. "You know, come to think of it, now that Olivier is on vacation, this will be the first time in at least ten years since the whole family has all been here together. We should do something to celebrate!"

"Oh you're right, we should have a party!" Catherine exclaimed, bouncing in her seat.

"I hardly think having five grown adults living with their parents is something to celebrate," Olivier grumbled. The fish smelled so good, and to add insult to injury, it was flavored just the way she liked it. She chewed bitterly on a tasteless apple slice and crossed her arms over her chest, sulking.

"Oh Olivier, you know our children are always welcome," Josephine chided. "Coming home to spend time with your family is nothing to be ashamed about."

"No! On the contrary, family reunions are a tradition that has been passed down the Armstrong line for generations!" Alex announced, sparkles dancing around him.

"Strongine, when is your sister scheduled to arrive?" Philip asked eagerly.

"She called saying one of the servants was going to fetch her from the hotel at noon tomorrow and drive her here." She turned to Olivier and offered her a big grin. "She doesn't even know you're back, she'll be over the moon when we tell her you're here to stay!"

"I doubt I'll be staying in the mansion very long," Olivier said, trying to catch a rolling blueberry, her favorite fruit, in her spoon. "I plan to get an apartment as soon as possible."

"Olivier, we've discussed this already. We insist you stay here until you give birth," Philip demanded in a tone that suggested he was quite used to getting his way and expected no argument.

"Father, I'm _fine_." That blueberry was getting annoying. It was one of the juicy, plump ones too. "I'm pregnant, not sick; there's a difference. And I'm not even three weeks in yet."

"Alex says the apartments in Central are nasty and expensive," Catherine reminded her, batting her lashes to turn up the charm. "And he would know, he's seen them. But then you seem to do quite well in nasty places, so it might be perfect for someone like you."

"Not everything your darling big brother says is true, Catherine," Oliver told her, refusing to acknowledge the well-concealed insult. She finally gave up on using her spoon and stuck her fingers into the bowl, ignoring the glares from her parents. It was more efficient to use her hands anyway.

Catherine opened her eyes wide and stared her down, sparkles galore. "I think he would know a bit more than you, _Ollie-Em_." Everyone chuckled except Strongine, who shot Olivier a look of pity. Neither girl missed the mockery in Catherine's tone.

"I told you not to call me that." Olivier hated how her death glare never worked on her youngest sister. _Spoiled brat._

"Why not? It's an adorable nickname that combines your first and middle name, both of which rarely get any use. I think it's perfectly clever," Philip stated.

Tch. Of course he would take her side. Catherine had always been his pet. She was everyone's pet really, especially Alex's. Only Olivier, Amue and Strongine knew what she was really like behind the cute mask.

"I hope you don't leave, Olivier. Amue will be crushed," Strongine pointed out. "I can just see her face now. Her one and only big sister, home and not rushing off back to Briggs like she usually is."

"Aren't you at least a little bit excited, Olivier?" Josephine asked, leaning back in her chair as the servants came to carry away the dishes. "You haven't seen her in so long. You girls used to be so close."

Olivier shrugged, feeling a twinge of guilt in her chest. She wanted to look forward to Amue's homecoming, but she couldn't help dreading it. She never could explain how she felt about her oldest sister; she couldn't even understand it herself.

"She did ask why she never heard from you." Olivier really wished Strongine would shut up. "She said she sent you a whole stack of letters but never got any replies."

"Commanding a fort and protecting the northern border of an entire country from foreign invaders everyday tends to take up most of my time," Olivier said briskly. Her stomach growled and she wished she'd eaten more. Fruit didn't satisfy one for very long. At Briggs she and every other soldier could pack away several pounds of meat at every meal. But in the Armstrong mansion it wasn't polite to ask for seconds, despite their huge appetites (which was why all their meals were full-course ones, with appetizers, soups, salads, desserts, etc.).

"Surely you could have found time to write her one letter, just to let her know you were still alive," Josephine looked at her oldest daughter reproachfully. "You know she cares deeply about you."

Olivier winced inside. _That's the problem. I wish she didn't. _"It's not like I didn't want to, I just wasn't able to," she lied. "In any case I'll see her tomorrow and we can catch up in person."

"I bet she'll be thrilled to know she won't be the heaviest one in the family for too much longer," Catherine said in her sweetest, aren't-I-the-most-adorable-thing-ever-voice. She giggled and tilted her head to the side. "Soon Ollie-Em will be big too."

"I told you not to call me that," Olivier said through clenched teeth. She gripped the seat of her chair hard to keep from throwing what little tableware was left on the table at her infuriating sister. "And I still have a ways to go before I start showing so you can stuff it."

"Calm yourself Olivier, Catherine meant nothing by it," Philip scolded, giving her a look. "I'm sure your sister was only trying to think of a way to boost Amue's self-esteem, weren't you dear?"

Catherine giggled and made goo-goo eyes. "Of course, Father. I knew _you _would understand. Poor Ollie-Em is just so clueless."

"Call me that one more time and see what happens."

"Olivier! Can't we get through one dinner without you threatening to kill someone?" Josephine sighed.

"Well, Catherine did start it," Strongine pointed out, shooting Olivier a conspiratorial glance, which she was grateful for. It was always comforting to have an ally.

"Speaking of Catherine, did you know she's almost mastered the piano by now?" Alex chimed in, eager to break the tension.

"Oh yes, her playing is most elegant!" Philip exclaimed from underneath his thick beard, sounding a bit tipsy from the wine he'd had. If there was one thing the Armstrongs' father loved, it was his wine.

"Thank you Father. I've also managed to lift not just one, but _two _grand pianos now, with one in each hand." She snuck a peek at her parents and brother, and seeing that they were distracted by a servant, she glared at Olivier, all cuteness and smiles gone. Her tone immediately lost any friendliness.

"What about you, Olivier? Can _you _lift two grand pianos? Can you even lift one?"

Olivier snorted. It was hopelessly pathetic how threatened Catherine felt by her being there. The three older sisters knew all too well that Olivier was her only real competition in terms of being the best all-star Armstrong. Amue and Strongine may have had the intelligence, artistic abilities, and strength to match her, but they would never have the beauty and charm so Catherine never bothered with them. Olivier, however, had all of it and more. She smiled bitterly. Catherine may have been cute, but she was still very little-girl looking at twenty. Olivier had a much more womanly figure and could easily attract twice as many men without even trying.

She glanced at Alex, who was reclining in his chair, carefree as could be. He'd never known serious competition and that was why he was such a weakling. He was the only boy, the only alchemist, and the only Armstrong in the military at Central. Earning the family's pride and respect, as well as that of his country and its military, had been effortless for him. But in a family as ambitious and gifted as the Armstrongs, with four girls things could get ugly. Very ugly.

It hadn't started out that way, Olivier remembered. When they were very young, life had been wonderful and since they were homeschooled and had no neighbors, the girls were each other's playmates. Alex was their toy, they either pounced on him and tortured him, or spoiled and protected him depending on their mood. But as they'd matured, expectations increased and they were told to make something of themselves and go far in life. Each one took it very seriously; every word of praise to one girl was a point added to her score and a point deducted from the other three. Slowly but surely the girls grew apart and became rivals instead of the best friends they'd once been.

Even now each girl had something unique that the other three wanted. Catherine had charm and manipulation; Olivier had beauty, confidence and success; Strongine had superb athletic ability and brute strength; and Amue possessed unparalleled fashion sense and artistic talent (they were all fairly evenly matched in terms of intelligence, although Olivier spent more time sharpening her mind so she was often ahead of the other three in that department). Each girl yearned to be the best and it just wasn't possible for all four of them to achieve that status.

For a long time it had been every girl for herself, but when the youngest was born and immediately favored simply because she was the baby, the three of them had a common enemy. Catherine had turned what had been a competitive rivalry into a full-blown war very early on in her life and her sisters had quickly banded back together in an effort to bring her down. Ironically, a fourth sister had brought the first three closer together than they ever had been, and in a weird way they were grateful for that.

Olivier sipped at her water (apparently herbal tea was off-limits too) and matched Catherine's dirty look. "I have better things to do than attempt useless endeavors like lifting pianos, but I _can_ kill a grizzly bear with my bare hands, cook it and eat it for dinner as well as fire, disassemble and reassemble weapons four times bigger than me. Oh yes, and I can also defeat an army of five thousand with an army of only two hundred, saving millions of Amestrian civilian lives in the process. What about you, Catherine? Can _you _do that?" she asked in the exact same tone her sister had used before.

"Nice!" Strongine's hand met Olivier's in a high five, and the noise attracted the attention of the other half of the table before Catherine could retort. She sulked, her bright blues shooting daggers at Olivier.

The family continued to converse long after the table had been completely cleared, but Catherine didn't say another word and Olivier and Strongine winked at each other, counting that as an unqualified win for their side. And, just for a moment, they remembered and indulged in the togetherness they'd once shared for so long.

**Alright, I just know I'm going to have people irritated with me for making Catherine mean. All I ask is that you hear me out before you say anything:**

**Personally, that is how I see her. I think Catherine really is mean. Look at what she did to Havoc in the original anime. The poor guy went to the trouble of getting dressed up, getting her flowers, and drove to her house to meet her and her parents and take her on a date. And what does she do? She turns him down because, of all things, he isn't muscular enough. Is that shallow or what? She didn't even give him a chance! Forget the cute smile and polite tone and think about what she actually said to him. It was pretty dang cruel if you ask me.**

**Besides that, we barely ever see Catherine and the only times we do see her are when her parents are with her. We don't know how she acts when they're not around. The only other time we really get a good look at her is when Olivier and Alex have their fight in Brotherhood. First she cheers for Alex and doesn't even acknowledge Olivier, which shows that she clearly prefers him over her, and then we see her walking outside with her parents. Philip Armstrong talks about getting Alex and Olivier statues, and what does Catherine say? "Well, in that case, I want a statue too." I even thought the way she said it was kind of rude. Like, how dare my siblings have anything that I don't.**

**Aside from that, almost every fanfic I've ever read that actually had Amue and Strongine in it portrayed them as dumb, rude, mean, whorish, greedy, desperate man-stealers and I think this is completely unfair. Just because they're not the most attractive characters, that doesn't make them bad. We never even hear them speak and people just automatically assume they're ditzy sluts. Sheesh.**

**I hope Olivier's relationship with Amue won't come off as confusing. That will be explained in more detail next chapter and I've been working hard on it. Please review! If you do you'll have good karma! ;)**


	4. Chapter 4

"She's here at last! Quick, everyone! Our sister Amue has arrived!" The sound of a blubbering wail accompanied that last sentence as Alex was heard rushing out the door, no doubt with his arms wide open for a hug. Olivier heaved a huge sigh. She had seen the limousine rolling up the long driveway from her bedroom window upstairs and had felt the knot of dread in her chest tighten. She gazed out the window and watched Amue step out of the car and meet her brother in a trademark Armstrong embrace. She was sparkling even more than usual, a sure sign she was happy to be home.

Olivier knew she would have to confront her sister eventually, but was putting it off as long as possible. As to why this was so she still didn't quite understand. But then she didn't understand anything when it came to Amue.

"Sister!" Strongine called from behind her locked door. "Come on, you can't hide in there forever. No doubt Alex has already told her you're here." She knocked on the door. "Come on, open up."

Olivier slid off her bed and glanced at herself in the three-way mirror. After barking at a servant to crank up the A/C, she'd slipped on a pair of her good jeans and one of her nicer black shirts, the one with thin white sleeves that extended from the shoulders. She hated how much it showed off her bust, but then there wasn't much to be done about that, since Olivier was the kind of girl who could wear a turtleneck and still look like she was showing off. The jeans she'd picked for Amue's sake; her sister would never be able to wear jeans a day in her life but for some reason she loved seeing them on other people. Olivier walked to the door in her bare feet and unlocked it.

Strongine's massive hands came down on her shoulders. "I know it's hard, but please try your absolute best to be nice and tolerate her. Just for a little while, at least. After she's gotten over her homesickness and the excitement has worn off you can go back to being you."

"I wasn't exactly planning on biting her head off the minute she walked through the door; you don't need to be so protective," she said, raising an eyebrow. "I plan to give her a two-day grace period to make up for the fact that I never contacted her. No matter how much she annoys me, I'll restrain myself from saying anything. After that all bets are off."

Strongine nodded. "Fair enough." She grinned. "Who knows? Maybe you'll even warm up to her love."

"Tch. Please. I doubt all that 'honey' and 'sweetheart' stuff will ever grow on me." Olivier followed Strongine down the long, winding, red-carpeted staircase of the mansion and steeled herself. _It's just for a little while. No matter what she does, just keep all your annoyance inside. Don't yell, don't snap, and don't be sarcastic. Amue sees you as a role model, so stay calm and be patient. _The rest of the family was already at the door, crowded around the biggest Armstrong of them all.

"What's this? Is my daughter actually getting a tan?" Josephine said with delight. "That's unheard of for an Armstrong!"

"Never underestimate the desert sun, my dear!" Philip reminded her. "Why I remember back when I was a soldier, I-"

"Oh Father, I'm sure that story is interesting, but please let me get my bags to my room first," Amue stopped him quickly. Olivier was grateful. It was dangerous to let their father start his flashbacks. They often didn't stop for hours.

"Right, right!" Philip snapped his fingers, and two butlers appeared in an instant. "Take my daughter's bags up to her room please. Alex, you get the heavier ones."

"Of course, Father!" Alex gripped the handles of two suitcases that were roughly half the height of a standard doorframe and the two Armstrong parents moved aside for the poor butlers, who nearly broke their arms trying to lift the bags. Amue suddenly came into view (not that she had entirely been hidden before) and Olivier ducked behind a potted palm before she could be spotted. Amue looked happy. Dangerously happy.

Strongine gave Olivier a dirty look and strode over to her older sister. "I've missed you so much. Oh honey, you look marvelous…" Olivier could actually hear their muscles flexing and contracting as the two enormous girls threw their arms around each other and complimented their clothing and hairdos.

"And Catherine, sweetheart!" Olivier smirked and stifled her laughter as she heard Catherine let out a short scream. To anyone else it would look as though Amue was simply giving her an extremely affectionate hug, but Olivier knew she was sneakily getting revenge by intentionally squeezing the breath out of their snide little sister. A hug like that from Amue Armstrong didn't stop hugging for a week. _Take that, brat_, Olivier thought with satisfaction.

"Oh and Amue, guess who's here?" Olivier groaned internally at her father's happy announcement. Now it was her turn.

"Who? Did the family come? Or the Fuhrer?"

"Even better, sweetie!" Strongine crossed the threshold in one stride and snatched Olivier by the arm, dragging her into view. Olivier started to glare daggers at Strongine, but then quickly replaced it with a smile that she hoped looked sincere enough.

"Your big sister has returned from Briggs!"

Olivier didn't even get a chance to say hello before she was barreled into by a mass of flesh. Amue picked her up, just like Olivier knew she would, and slammed her into a crushing hug. Olivier shut her eyes and focused on attempting to hug back. She willed herself not to dwell on the fact that her face was now smushed in between Amue's breasts. Or how wrong that last thought sounded. Or that Amue was showering the top of her head with kisses and that painfully aggravating _mwah _sound. Or that her feet were dangling a good two feet off the ground, which always made her nervous. Olivier did not like heights, especially when she was dangling from them. She could handle them (she wouldn't have lasted long at Briggs otherwise), but didn't like them. They made her feel out of control.

"Olivier! I can't believe you're here! It's been ages since I've seen you! How have you been, darling?" Olivier would have answered, but all speech capabilities had left her. At the moment she was seeing more of her younger sister's cleavage than she had ever wanted to see. Why did Amue always insist on wearing these low-cut dresses? For a moment she actually felt sorry for Catherine. She had gotten it ten times worse. _PLEASE put me down_, she begged silently.

"I'm sorry, I'm probably smothering you, aren't I?" Amue finally relaxed her hold and lowered her. Olivier's hair was mussed and her face looked a little grim, but she managed to shake it off.

"And you look so cute! That T-shirt flatters you so well!" She squealed. Olivier painfully managed a tight-lipped smile in thanks.

"We'll leave you two alone so you can catch up," Strongine grinned, leading her parents away. Catherine lingered in the corner, much to Olivier's chagrin.

"Sister, how are you?"

"I'm fine. How is Ishval progressing?"

"Much better. They've almost completely gotten back on their feet. Major Miles is working wonders."

"Of course he is," Olivier felt a warmth in her chest, remembering her cherished subordinate. Briggs definitely wasn't the same without him, but they would carry on like always.

"Most of the Ishvalan women loved my clothing designs. I did try my hardest to make them look good while still staying true to their culture. Although the Ishvalan men weren't fond of me." Amue's eyes darkened a bit, her head lowered and Olivier touched her arm.

"I'm sure they appreciated it. You did a true service to their country, and to ours by proving that not all Amestrians want to hurt them." She kept her voice as soft as possible, a tone no one outside her family would ever hear.

She really did feel sympathy for Amue. She had amazing talent, but rarely had any luck finding a job even with the Armstrong name attached to her. It angered Olivier to know that people took one look at her and immediately shot her down without even giving her a chance. Strongine had learned to shrug it off, not care, and accept that it would always be that way, but not Amue. She was sensitive. She wanted people to like her and think she was pretty. If Olivier could have traded bodies with her, she would have in a second. Having muscle mass like her sister's would make crushing Drachman armies as simple as crushing toothpicks.

"Thank you." Amue held Olivier to her again, more gently this time. "That means so much coming from you." Olivier frowned at that last part. _Why does my opinion mean so much to her?_

"Hey Amue!" Catherine smiled, having recovered from the traumatizing hug. Now that they were alone, her expression and tone were nothing short of sinister. "Did Olivier tell you she's having a baby?"

"Oof!" Olivier let out a yelp as Amue suddenly dropped her. She fell backward and landed on her butt. Catherine grinned smugly and placed her hands on her hips.

"I jus thought she should know," she said, fluttering her eyelashes and pretending to blush, cupping her hands. "I'm sorry, was it supposed to be a secret?"

"No Catherine, we know you can't keep _anything _secret," Olivier snarled. She turned to Amue, whose mouth was agape and who appeared absolutely shell-shocked.

"You're…_what?_"

Olivier's eyes rolled skyward. "Look, it's not what you're thinking. See, this child's not actually-"

"Then you _are _having a baby? Catherine's telling the truth?"

"Well yes, I'm expecting, but-"

"Oh Olivier! That's so _wonderful!_" And just like that, the oldest Armstrong was airborne yet again and in her little sister's clutches. "You're going to be a mother! I'm going to be an auntie! Our very first Armstrong baby of the next generation! Oh, I'm so _excited _for you!" Olivier grimaced as Amue jumped up and down while speaking in a high voice, shaking the house and revealing even more cleavage. Olivier groaned as she began to feel dizzy from asphyxiation.

"You have to tell me everything! What are you going to name it? Is it a boy or a girl? How far along are you? You must have just found out, you're still so thin! Are you having it here in Central? Are you planning on quitting your job to raise it?" Upon hearing no answer, Amue set her down and gripped her shoulders. "Come on, baby mama! Details, details!"

Olivier waited for the spots to clear from her vision before replying, as patiently as she could. "Amue, listen. This baby isn't-"

"Oh, but first, you have to tell me who the father is! My goodness, you didn't get married while I was away, did you?"

"Of course not!"

"The father is none other than Roy Mustang!" Catherine sneered. It was taking everything Olivier had not to wipe that smug smile off her face.

"No!" Amue gasped. "Is that true, Olivier?"

Olivier clenched her fists. "Unfortunately it is. I wasn't informed of that little detail until afterwards."

Amue furrowed her brow. "Huh? You weren't informed? You mean Roy Mustang had sex with you and you didn't even know it?"

"He _what_?!"

Olivier face-palmed. Of course the rest of the family would walk in right at that moment on Amue's last line.

"What do you mean? Olivier, did he rape you?" Josephine asked, her hand over her mouth.

Olivier shoved her hands in her pockets in an effort to keep from punching someone and felt around for toothpicks. This conversation was spiraling out of control. "No! It wasn't like that, it was just-"

"Were you drunk?" Catherine asked tauntingly.

Olivier spun around and glowered at her. "Shut up! You know exactly what happened so stop trying to confuse everybody else!"

"Sister, did Roy Mustang take advantage of you?" Alex growled. His muscles bulged, ripping his shirt off. His eyes were fueled with a rage that was very, very rare for him. Not too many people knew Alex had a dark side.

"Did he? Because if so, I could easily ensure that he's punished!"

"Alex, please-"

"I can't believe he got her pregnant!" Amue exclaimed. "Isn't that against the law in the military?"

Olivier turned to face her and raised her voice just a tad. "That's definitely not what hap-"

"Wait, what? You got pregnant _again_?" Strongine asked, confused. "How does that work?"

"Strongine-"

"Again? You mean she got pregnant more than once?" Philip cried.

"No I did not-"

"Olivier, what is the meaning of this? Where's our grandchild?"

"Everyone, QUIET!" Olivier had lost it.

When she finally had their attention, she took a deep breath and explained. "Nothing happened between Mustang and me! Catherine was trying to confuse you all by making you think something happened, but it's not true. This is the first time I've ever been pregnant, and to clear up your confusion, Amue, this baby is not mine. It's Mustang's and Riza Hawkeye's. She's the mother. I'm acting as a surrogate for them. Once this child is born, I'm handing it over to them. I do not have, nor do I plan to have, any children of my own and I'm just now finishing my third week of pregnancy, so hell if I know what gender it is or anything like that. Now does that satisfy everyone?"

"You're a surrogate?" Amue asked. "_You_?"

"Hardly by choice," Olivier muttered, folding her arms. "Fuhrer Grumman dragged me into this. But yes, I am. I have eight months and four days left, and believe me, I'm counting them down."

"Wow," Amue breathed. "That's so generous of you. That's…it's such a huge act of kindness. I'm so proud!" She slung an arm around Olivier's shoulders. "My big sister is such an angel."

"So I've been told," Olivier grumbled.

"Have you felt the baby move at all? I read they start moving very early on," Josephine asked. "You five certainly did."

Olivier shook her head. "No, nothing yet."

"Can I feel it?" Amue asked.

"Oh, me first!" Strongine squealed, and dove for Olivier.

"No, me!" Amue protested.

"I wish to feel it as well!" Alex exclaimed

"Agh! What the hell are you doing? Back off!" Olivier was instantly rendered helpless as twelve strong hands reached for her belly. She tried to fight them off but was outnumbered and outsized.

"It's a miracle!"

"There's _life_ inside you! It's so beautiful!"

"Ugh!" Olivier slammed her head backward against a wall.

This was going to be a looooonnnnggg eight months and four days.


	5. Chapter 5

**I appreciate the feedback I've gotten so far. But please, in the future, be specific. Tell me WHY you liked it or WHAT was confusing.**

There was a certain wing of the Armstrong mansion that was well known for its "sleepy effect," something Olivier knew all too well and despised with a passion. When she was at Briggs, she could easily run eight miles, do fifty push-ups, sit-ups and pull-ups each; lift two hundred pound weights and hold it for three minutes, and run on four hours of sleep and two cups of coffee a day with no problem. When she was at home, getting up from the couch felt like an effort. Something about the atmosphere of this part of the building just tuckered you out. The drab décor, antique furniture, and lack of windows most likely.

Olivier yawned, wondering if in her case, fatigue was an early symptom of what was soon to come. She lay stretched out on her belly on the sofa and was actually having to force herself to keep her eyes open, not wanting to waste the day and night by falling asleep so early. Though sadly there wasn't much else for her to do. The military refused her so much as a single sheet of paperwork, and she couldn't travel or do anything intense while pregnant, so up to this point she'd mostly been going for long walks (the only exercise she was allowed) and sharpening her mind. She'd gone to the Central Public Library almost every day and stayed until closing time, reading books on military strategies and weaponry and taking notes. And on weekends when the library was closed she'd been holed up in her room or at a café, exercising her brain with more books, the newspaper, letters to Miles about Ishval, puzzles, number games, and occasionally sketching.

The only reason she was back there now, in an unused parlor-type room that had grown a bit dusty, was to obtain some peace and quiet from her boisterous, overly-affectionate family. In fact, that was part of the reason she'd been going out so frequently. Another two weeks had come and gone since Amue had returned home, and time was passing painfully slowly. Olivier had gone apartment searching one weekend, but hadn't had any luck. They were all either dirty, expensive, ugly, unfurnished, smelled bad, needed repairs, or weren't practical. She had wanted to find one close to the hospital just in case anything went wrong or she happened to go into labor in the middle of the night, but no dice. At this point she was thinking she might as well stay in the mansion; her family was begging her to and she would certainly be better cared for and would eat better. Plus it _would_ save money, money that could be used to move along the Ishval Restoration.

It was Sunday, which meant the library was closed, and it was so unbearably hot outside that even she wasn't willing to venture outdoors. Olivier could handle all kinds of cold weather, but stick her in the boiling summer sun and she'd melt like butter. She knew she'd be a miserable wreck if she ever did go to Ishval, which was the main reason why she had mostly supported it monetarily up to this point.

"I'm so bored," she mumbled. "And I always thought hell would freeze over before I ever said that. I can't even remember what I used to do before I worked at Briggs."

"Well, I do." Olivier looked up and saw her mother standing in the doorway, an amused expression on her face. "Hello, stranger. I thought I'd find you here. Looking for some solitude after avoiding us for so long?"

_No, I like loafing around in dusty parlor rooms that can also be used as sedatives. I do it all the time. _But this was her mother, so Olivier restrained herself.

"Yes, just for a little while. And I'm not avoiding you all, I just don't like sitting around the house. I have to do_ something_ productive."

Josephine took a tentative step into the room and immediately yawned. "This place hasn't changed at all. It's still just as drowsy as ever. I'm surprised you're still awake."

"I may not be for much longer," Olivier mumbled, lowering her head back onto the throw pillow. "I remember when I housed all of my men in the mansion, I forbade them from ever going near this place. They all thought it was some secret lair filled with hidden treasures, but the reality is I knew the minute any of them set foot in here, all the energy would be zapped right out of them."

"That was wise. The only time I can ever remember spending time here was when I was heavily pregnant, because I had trouble sleeping. But this room worked like magic. Not even the maids were brave enough to follow me." She touched Olivier's arm. "A word of advice from your dear old mother: enjoy sleeping on your stomach while you still can."

"Ugh…I didn't even think about that part," Olivier said, scowling. "That'll be hell. I can only fall asleep on my stomach, it's the only position that feels comfortable."

"I know, you've slept like that every night since you were a baby."

"It sucks that I have nothing else to do but sleep," Olivier complained. "I'm so used to being busy every moment, and now that my responsibilities have been taken from me, I hardly know what to do with myself."

"Do you want to know what you used to do before you became so active in the military? And before you decided you wanted nothing more to do with us?" Josephine's mouth was frowning but her eyes were smiling. She sat on the coffee table next to the sofa and pushed Olivier's hair back.

"Lessons mostly, if memory serves me correctly. Lessons and exercises. I was only fourteen when I started training and learning how to use the sword."

"But you do remember what you and your brother and sisters did for fun, right?"

"Wrestled and played outside. That was when we were small."

Josephine sighed. "You really have forgotten, haven't you? The five of you used to sing and dance."

Olivier groaned. "Oh, don't remind me. I shouldn't have wasted my time with that."

"Why not? You used to love it. And so did they. That was the one thing you all did so well, such lovely voices! And you were a promising and talented tap dancer, we were all so sad when you gave it up."

"Singing and dancing serve no purpose to society. I don't know why we kept it up for so many years."

"Oh, you're wrong, Olivier. Don't you remember when you sang your two solos? You moved the whole audience to tears. Including us."

Olivier rolled her eyes. "Please, my singing is nothing special. And even if I wanted to pick it up again, I haven't opened my mouth to sing one word in years."

"That's such a shame. I remember when you used to sing all the time. In the shower, during training, while you studied, in the car. You couldn't go a day without it, and you had such a beautiful voice. I never could understand why you suddenly stopped."

_Because after my voice matured and got better, everybody wanted me to sing on demand, whatever they wanted, whenever they wanted, for as long as they wanted. Because every time we had company, you and Father tried to show me off. That was when it stopped being fun and became a chore._

Olivier stretched, trying to wake up. "The others are better than I am anyway. Amue and Catherine can hit higher notes than me."

"They take care better care of their voices, dear." Josephine arched an eyebrow. "They listen to their mother."

"Hmpth. It can't be helped that my job requires me to yell at incompetent soldiers."

"True, but you could help the fact that whenever you performed on stage, you belted as long and loud and high as you could, even when it strained your vocal cords."

"That's what mezzo-sopranos are supposed to do," Olivier growled.

"There she is!" Olivier and Josephine turned to see the rest of the family squeeze into the tiny parlor room and crowd around them excitedly. "Did you tell her yet?"

"Tell me what?" Olivier bolted upright, weariness gone.

"You remember how we said that we should do something to celebrate the fact that the whole family is together again?" Alex asked.

Olivier narrowed her eyes. "I've said it before, and I'll say it again. I don't like parties."

"Not a party, Sister," Amue corrected her. "We thought of something much better!"

"Now I'm terrified," Olivier said sarcastically. "What hare-brained scheme did all of you come up with?"

They exchanged conspiratorial smiles. "We're bringing back the Armstrong Five!" they cheered.

Olivier clenched her teeth and gave them her most fearsome glare, shaking her head slowly. "No. Definitely not."

"Aw, come on, it was so much fun!" Strongine whined.

"You liked it too, I know you did," Amue told her.

"When I was much younger, maybe, but now I have a reputation to uphold."

"What we were thinking, Olivier," Philip rumbled. "Is that we could have a charity benefit concert. And all the proceeds would go toward supporting Ishval. The Armstrong Five would perform some numbers, we could hire an orchestra to accompany all of you, Catherine could play her piano solo-"

"And you could tap dance like you used to!" Amue said. "I think we could generate a lot of money, especially if people know it's for a good cause."

"It's a nice thought, but I'm _not_ performing," Olivier insisted. "Besides, I'm sure I can't dance in my condition."

"You could tap dance and be perfectly fine. At least while you're in your first trimester," Josephine said.

"I don't care, it's not happening." Olivier folded her arms.

"But we can't do it without you!" Alex begged. "You're the best dancer we have. And between the four of us, we've got the high notes, the low notes, and the harmonies, but we still need someone to sing the melody and the middle notes. You're the only one who can do it."

"I'm sure between Strongine's alto and Catherine's soprano, you could work something out."

"No we can't! It's too low for me and too high for her!" Catherine argued.

"Consider, Olivier, don't you wish to support Ishval in any way you can?" Philip asked.

"Of course I do, but not by doing something so idiotic! Do you really think me performing will make that much of a difference?"

"Yes!" they all yelled. Olivier was taken aback by the forcefulness of their response.

"Like you said, you have a reputation. Do you know how many people would pay money to see General Armstrong, the Queen of Briggs, sing and dance onstage?" Catherine teased.

"People would flock from all over the country to see it!" Amue added.

"Oh great!" Olivier said. "Just what I need." _Then everyone at work will want me to sing too._

"Well, you did say you were bored," Josephine reminded her. "And this would certainly give you something to do."

"I'm not singing," Olivier repeated. "The rest of you do what you like, but leave me out of it. I'm not making a fool out of myself by dancing to some silly music onstage."

"But we can't be the Armstrong Five without you!" Amue cried.

"You can be the Armstrong Four then. You've got a bass, an alto, a soprano, and an operetta. That's good enough."

"Pleeeeassse? We need a mezzo-soprano too or we won't sound right," Strongine begged.

"It's like riding a bike, you'll pick it up again in no time," Catherine said.

"For the last time, no!"

"Well, it's not like you have anything better to do," Catherine said, rolling her eyes.

"The last time someone said that, I got pregnant with the spawn of a man I hate."

"What's your point? Come on, you'll have plenty of time to sit around and do nothing while you're in your second and third trimester. You should enjoy being active while you still can," Philip told her.

"We'll even let you pick the songs," Amue promised.

"None of you understand. We're not children anymore," Olivier reasoned. "That stuff may have been cute then, but now we're grown adults. I highly doubt we still have any fans, not that we ever really had any before. And Alex may not care about his reputation in the military, but I care about mine."

"That's funny, I always thought you said you didn't care what people thought about you," Josephine reminded her.

"I don't!"

"Then what's the problem? Why are you afraid of looking ridiculous?"

"Just because we're adults, that doesn't mean we can't be just as good as we were," Strongine said. "If anything, our voices have only gotten better since we're all done with puberty now."

Olivier was halfway tempted to storm out of the room, but she knew they would only follow her. "How can you think this is a good idea? Just because our silly little sibling music act had a good run in community theaters and clubs when we were young, that doesn't mean anyone will want to see us now!" There was no way Olivier could sing again. She wasn't even sure she remembered how.

"They will if you're there," Amue said. "You're amazing onstage." And there were those blasted puppy eyes of hers.

"How about this?" Josephine offered. "We'll compromise. All five of you practice together for a week, and then if Olivier still doesn't feel up to it, we won't do it. And if she does, we'll go ahead and make the arrangements."

"That sounds grand! What do you say, dear?" Now it was Philip's turn to make puppy eyes.

"Tch. If it'll get you all off my back, I'll go along for a week." _On second thought, maybe a dirty, impractical apartment wouldn't be so bad._

"Oh thank you Sister!" Amue, Strongine and Alex leapt for her before she could stop them, knocking her backwards onto the sofa so that she lay flat on her back. This time it was Strongine's cleavage in her face (though thankfully her shirt covered her), and Alex and Amue were sprawled out on top of her with their arms outstretched.

"Get off!" Olivier croaked, but she was muffled under the three huge bodies piled on top of her. "I can't breathe!"

"Oh my, this room is-" Strongine yawned. "Awfully sleepy, isn't it? We were so anxious to persuade you we didn't even notice it until now…night-night."

"Strongine." Olivier's voice was just below a shout. "Wake up. Go back to your bed and sleep."

"I agree, this place puts you right out. I think I'll just…" Amue's sentence was cut off as her eyes slid closed and her breathing slowed. Alex was already snoring softly.

"No! No no no no, do NOT fall asleep on me!" Olivier shouted. She couldn't even move her arms out from under them. "Get off!"

"Don't worry dear, I'll move them," Josephine assured her. She and Philip gave yawns of their own and moved toward their offspring, which, except for Olivier, were all sound asleep.

"Mother, Father, I think I hear the cook calling you!" Catherine cried. She cupped her face and sparkled, her face the picture of worry. "She sounds so scared! What if she's set the house on fire again?"

"Oh dear, not again!" Philip and Josephine exclaimed, rushing out of the room.

"Wait! Get them off me first!" Olivier called, but they were already gone.

Catherine grinned and faked a yawn. "Ya know, I think I'm tired too."

"Catherine, if they stay like this too long, they'll crush the fetus and my ribcage. Lift them off me, I know you can."

"Gee Ollie-Em, I would, I really would, but I'm just so sleepy." Catherine snickered. "In fact, I think I'll go to sleep too." She climbed on top of Alex and made herself comfortable, a satisfied smirk on her face. Olivier continued to glare although Catherine couldn't see her.

"You think this is funny? Wait till I get my hands on you-"

"I'm sorry, I can't hear you underneath Strongine's bosoms."

"Brat," Olivier muttered. _Why _did she have to be the small one in the family? She wiggled around for a bit and continued to yell at her siblings, but all hope was lost as Strongine's snores grew louder and her arms wrapped around Olivier's back in her sleep, hugging her like a teddy bear. Olivier's whole body ached from the weight and it wasn't long before she finally gave up and lay there helplessly, listening to Strongine's heartbeat and the sounds of her brother and sisters' breathing. Soon she began to feel tired too and let herself relax and doze off.

And thus the five Armstrong siblings fell asleep, one on top of the other. When Josephine at last remembered the situation and rushed back into the parlor room, she smiled fondly and snapped a picture, recalling the days when such a sight was far from unusual.

**I found out that the voice actress who plays Olivier in the dub is actually a professional singer, so in a roundabout way her being able to sing is totally canon! And even before that I always imagined her to have a very strong voice. So lovely when your headcanons turn out to be true. :)**

**As you've probably figured out by now, this story isn't just about Olivier becoming a surrogate. It's also a chance for her to bond with her family, since for the first time in years she's not working herself to the bone. I view the Armstrongs as kind of like the family portrayed on ****_The Cosby Show_****; funny, happy, affectionate and loving. I've always wanted to write something with all of them 'cause I'm a sucker for the Family/Comedy genre. Hopefully I'm doing them justice. However, for all of you Royai and Briggs lovers, don't fret. I promise there will be more canon characters showing up again very soon. Until then, please review and remember to be specific!**


	6. Chapter 6

**This one was written in a bit of a hurry. Thank you for all the reviews, I can't get enough of them! Although I do ask that you please take the time to type them out carefully. On this story and on others some of them I almost couldn't read because there were so many typos. They do encourage me to keep writing though! And if anyone's interested, I also wrote another fic with dear little Olive that is on here, so feel free to take a look and tell me what you think. **

"Olivier, you have to sing like you mean it. A mezzo-soprano needs to belt, singing softly is our job," Strongine commanded, leaning heavily on a music stand. The five of them were in the music room, against Olivier's wishes, and arranged from lowest voice to highest. Which unfortunately put Olivier in between Strongine and Catherine. Hearing a low voice at her right and a high one at her left was confusing.

"Oh shut up! I haven't done this in over a decade and I'm still getting used to it," Olivier snapped. She stared at the sheet music in front of her, trying to remember what all the symbols meant and what sounds they were supposed to make. This was such a waste of time.

"It's alright. Take your time figuring it out and the rest of us will just go over the harmonies," Amue said. "We'll get to the melody later. One, two, three, go!" The four Armstrongs burst into song, Amue drowning them out for the most part. Strongine and Alex always did the best they could, but there wasn't much hope for the low parts when they were surrounded by shrill high notes, particularly Amue's. She was one of the rare few that could sing opera and operetta, and her voice always filled the room. Catherine's voice was sweet and pretty in both Soprano I and II. Strongine could sometimes double up as a tenor and Alex doubled as a baritone, but for the most part they stuck to alto and bass since they didn't have much ability to sing anything else.

While they were distracted, Olivier retreated, grabbed her tap shoes from the corner she'd shoved them in, and relocated to the ballroom. She couldn't remember the last time she'd worn these old things, and they'd suffered quite a bit of wear from when she'd taken lessons as a child (though thankfully they still fit). Tap had been the one form of dance she actually liked; she hated dancing with partners and ballet required too much grace, femininity and flexibility.

She closed the door, sat down and carefully slipped them on. The _tap-slap _sound of the toe and heel hitting the hardwood floor brought back a flood of memories.

"Back in the day these were quite the stress reliever," she murmured. Whenever she'd had a bad day, she had always snuck over to the ballroom and furiously tapped away whatever was bothering her. The sound had been satisfying and the intense, fast exercise had melted away all the anger inside her.

Olivier awkwardly stood up, trying to remember what to do. They hadn't been able to acquire any music yet, which made singing and dancing much more difficult. Usually she had just let the music decide the steps for her. She closed her eyes. _Let's see…how did the routine go again? I know there was the shuffle-step. _She scraped her foot back and forth against the floor, the metal on the bottom of her shoe producing the required sound, and stamped her foot. _Then it went…tap tap, heel, heel._ _Toe, heel, toe, heel. _Her movements were stiff, slow and cumbersome, and at one point she shuffle-stepped a bit too hard and fell backward.

"Oh, hell," she spat. Olivier angrily pushed herself up and randomly tapped this way and that, finally deciding to just make something up. After all, she still wasn't planning on doing the concert, but if she could come up with something to show her family, they would leave her alone about it. And if what she came up with looked bad, all the better.

She tapped and spun around and stomped her feet as fast as she could, waving her arms for balance and being careful not to put too much weight on her feet. _Keep your knees bent._ The awkwardness of before was quickly beginning to fade. The rhythm came rushing back after being engrained in her muscle memory, and after a moment, she didn't have to look at her feet anymore. They moved of their own accord and increasingly picked up speed. Olivier smiled. Now she remembered why she'd done it as a child. Once you got good enough, it felt like flying.

Without even thinking about it, Olivier took a deep breath and began to sing. The first thing that came to mind was an Ishvalan song Miles had taught her late one night when they'd been two of only ten people working the graveyard shift. The nice thing about singing in another language was that nobody would know if she messed up, and she liked the hard, assertive "Ha" sounds that the "Ch" in Ishvalan made.

_No-deh-a-lo-heinu_

_No-deh-a-do-nei-nu _

_No-deh-a'mal-heinu _

_No-deh-a'moshienu _

_Baruch-a'lo-heinu…_

Her baby blues widened. She sounded…_good_. No, she sounded great! Somehow she'd gained a wider range and could achieve more vibrato than she had before. But could she still belt? She stopped for a second, caught her breath, and began to tap again. She opened her mouth wide and raised her voice.

_Mi-cha-lo-heinu_

_Mi-cha-do-nei-nu _

_Mi-cha'mal-heinu _

_Mi-cha'mo-shienu _

Olivier's heart pumped faster and faster, and her hair swung back and forth as the routine she'd performed countless times resurfaced in her memory, giving her feet minds of their own. She experimented with her voice, going as high and low as she could, and always loud. The louder she sang, the better she sounded, and the constant ring of her dancing gave the song a nice beat that echoed through her whole body.

Olivier bit back a laugh. This was _fun_! She had missed working out terribly since she first became pregnant a month ago and this was giving her just the adrenaline boost she'd been craving. And her singing…was that really her voice? She wasn't entirely sure what the lyrics of the song meant (she could have been condemning her family to eternal poverty and suffering for all she knew), but Miles had said the song was meant to praise Ishvala and that it was an old and cherished one. It would certainly be fitting for an Ishval benefit concert.

_Na'chita-va-has-da-ha_

_Amzu-ga'alta _

_Na'chita-va-has-da-ha _

_Amzu-ga'alta _

_Ashira, ashira, ashira! _

_Ashira la'adonai _

_Ki-ga'oh-ga'ah..._

_Mi-cha-lo-cha-baelim-a'donai! _

_Mi-cha-mo-cha-ne-dar-bakodesh…_

Yes! If she pushed herself enough, she could almost sing Soprano II. She had never been able to do that before, she'd always faltered just under it. Her voice sounded almost like Catherine's, but louder, stronger, clearer, _better_. Just for the hell of it, she sang faster and tapped quicker, twirling every now and then just to have her hair fan out behind her. This was like a high. It had been so long since she'd done anything like this; when was the last time she had felt this loose, this free?

All too soon Olivier reached the end of the song, and as she did so she twirled around as fast as she could, her tap shoes scraping wonderfully against the floor and her hair enveloping her. Her voice stretched as far as it would go, and, unable to keep the smile off her face, she closed her eyes and struck a dramatic pose as she sang the last word, throwing her head back and raising her hands in the air.

Her eyes immediately opened to the sound of applause, and widened in horror at seeing Roy Mustang with that _stupid, stupid _grin on his face, laughing and clapping. And to his left was her most trusted subordinate, Captain Buccaneer, with an even bigger smirk on his face. It couldn't be more obvious they'd been there for quite some time.

_Shoot. _

**The first song Olivier was singing is actually a Hebrew one that I sang at my cousin's bar mitzvah. I thought it was fitting since the Ishvalans remind me a lot of Jewish people (who are my ancestors by the way), what with their religion and being persecuted and all. Some of you may have recognized the third part; it's from "Prince of Egypt". It's the song the Hebrews sing when they're leaving Egypt. Although I admit I had no idea in terms of lyric spelling for either of the songs and I used them both without permission. I claim no ownership whatsoever. I don't know who wrote the first song or if it even has an author. **

**I would also like to add that I took tap dancing lessons for a very short time so I do have some idea of what I'm talking about there. PLEASE REVIEW AND VOTE ON MY POLL (now I have two votes for each choice -.-)! Thank you and have a nice day. :)**


	7. Chapter 7

"Bravo, General! You should give us an encore!" Roy's clapping was loud. Obnoxiously loud, like his trademark smirk.

"Well, this is the last thing I expected to see you doing," Buccaneer said, his famous toothy grin widening. "The boys back at the fort will never believe this one."

"What the hell are you two doing here?!" Olivier finally found her voice, but her face was still an embarrassing shade of pink. "Who do you think you are, Mustang, to come barging into someone else's house? And you!" She pointed at Buccaneer, her finger nearly shaking with rage. "You're supposed to be acting as commander of the fort in my place. How dare you desert your post! How can you even call yourself a soldier?"

"I'll have you know I did not barge in. I knocked on the door and your butler let me in," Roy replied, a bit put out.

"And I didn't desert my post, Miss Armstrong-"

"That's _General _Armstrong, or have you forgotten?" Olivier bristled. Buccaneer may have been her closest friend and most trusted comrade, but he was still just a captain. He had no right to address her without rank.

"Actually, now that you're on vacation, Fuhrer Grumman gave me permission to treat you as my equal. See, he sent for me and asked that Henschel replace me as commander. Now he wants me to act as your bodyguard until you return, or at least until the end of your pregnancy. And he said that until your vacation is up, you are no longer my superior, only my responsibility, since apparently you giving me orders would violate the terms of your vacation." He chuckled. "So I get to call you whatever I want."

"Wait just a minute, Fuhrer Grumman is forcing you to stay in Central for the year with me? The whole year?"

"Well, if need be I can go back after you give birth. But yeah, he said he wanted to make sure you were well protected since you're a common military target and Central City is dangerous, plus you're carrying his great-grandchild and you'll be in a more vulnerable state-"

"That _idiot_!" Olivier yelled, balling her hands into fists. "That dimwitted imbecile! The nerve of him, rearranging my fort behind my back! Why doesn't he come talk to me face to face and I'll show him _exactly_ how capable I am, pregnant or not!"

"Careful now." Roy raised his eyebrows. "He is the Fuhrer. If he hears your kind words about him, you may be in trouble."

"I don't care! That man needs to stop poking his nose into other people's business! I don't need a bodyguard, I can take care of myself. And how does he expect Briggs to hold up with me, Miles _and _Buccaneer gone?"

"Come on, did you really think I would leave the fort if I didn't think they'd be okay? We crushed Drachma so badly last month I doubt they'll be back for a long time. And don't you remember the new recruits we got last year? They've been learning fast, and Henschel and Karley are almost as efficient as Miles and me. I'll be checking in with them from time to time just to make sure, but trust me, we have nothing to worry about. None of the men were nervous about us being gone at all."

Olivier ignored him, gnashing her teeth. "I can't stand Grumman. First he coerces me into getting pregnant with his granddaughter's bratty child and now this? He'll be sorry when I kick him out of office and take his throne for myself!"

"Ooh, treasonous, aren't we?" Roy teased. "I may just have to tell him you said that."

"You go right ahead and do that, Mustang. Hell knows you'd never be able to gain favor by merit. Get out of my house, you incompetent dick."

Roy didn't move. "Actually, I had something important to talk to you about. You're about halfway through your…fifth week, right?"

Olivier crossed her arms over her chest and glowered at him, choosing not to answer.

"You have to go to the doctor no later than eight weeks, and they book up fast so you need to schedule an appointment as soon as you can. Just thought I'd let you know."

Buccaneer made a noise that was somewhere between a gasp and a laugh. He turned to Olivier. He pointed to Roy. "Wait…is he the-"

"Yup!" Roy grinned at Buccaneer. "I'm gonna be a proud papa!"

"Just get out of here, you twit!" Olivier spat. "I don't need scum like you telling me to go to a doctor. I feel fine and there's nothing wrong with me. I'll decide when I go or if I go."

Buccaneer bit back a laugh. "So let me get this straight. General Armstrong is pregnant with Colonel Mustang's kid?"

"Awfully quick on the draw, aren't you, Bucktooth?" Olivier retorted, knowing if she used his hated nickname it would get to him. For all that Buccaneer was popular at Briggs, there were plenty of people who didn't like him and enjoyed thinking up ways to irritate him.

His smile vanished, then quickly reappeared. "Don't call me that! Unless you want me calling you Fat-Lipped Floozy. The recruits made up insulting nicknames for you too."

Olivier growled. She could see her subordinate was quite enjoying treating her as his equal. _Dang _that Fuhrer Grumman! When she became ruler he was getting demoted for sure. Maybe all the way down to private.

"Fat-Lipped Floozy? That's genius!" Roy laughed. "I can't believe I never thought of that!"

"Watch it, Mustang. You seem to have forgotten I _am _carrying your child, so unless you want me to 'accidentally' fall down the stairs and get rid of it, you'd better shut up."

Roy cleared his throat and replaced his goofy expression with a serious one. "Alright, alright. No need to be so drastic. Just please promise me you'll find a doctor soon. It's important."

"I told you, I feel fine. I don't need a doctor."

"Armstrong, with respect, you do need a doctor. We have to make sure the baby's okay. Please, we don't want anything to happen to this one."

Olivier huffed. "I'll see what I can do."

Roy fished a card out of his pocket. "Here," he handed it to her. "This is the doctor Riza went to, she says he's very good. Give him a call when you get the chance."

She snatched the card from him and crushed it under her tap shoe. "I can find a doctor myself. Now if that's all you wanted to say, then show yourself out."

Roy raised his hands in defense and backed toward the door. "Alright, I'm gone. I must say, it was lovely to see you again Armstrong, and your home is as grand as ever."

"Whatever. Just get out." For once, he listened. Buccaneer saluted him and turned back to her, wearing that stupid smirk again.

"Wow. Not only does our Queen sing and dance, but she got pregnant by, out of all the men in the world, Colonel Mustang."

"It's not like that and you know it. This isn't my baby, it's Riza Hawkeye's. And I'll admit I used to sing and dance when I was much younger, but I rarely do it anymore."

"That's a shame. You were really good. I can't wait to tell the men about it."

"You're not going to tell the men about it. If you do, I'll demote you when I get back. I don't care what Grumman told you, I'm still your superior and you still owe me your respect, _Captain _Buccaneer."

"Ya know…now that we're equals, you can drop the rank. Ya know, keep it a bit more casual."

Olivier's glare remained plastered to her face. "Fine. What's your first name?" She'd known it at some time, but had long since forgotten. She'd even forgotten Miles's first name. Little details like those just weren't important when she had so much more pressing information to remember.

"Eh, everyone just calls me Buccaneer."

"A bit unoriginal, if you ask me."

He shrugged. "Does this mean I can call you Olivier?"

"No."

He frowned. "Aw, why not? Do I really have to address you as Miss Armstrong every single time?"

"It's General Armstrong."

"Not anymore. Now I'm just your bodyguard."

"Don't remind me," she snapped, kicking her tap shoes off and flinging them into a corner.

"Does that mean you're not gonna dance anymore?" Buccaneer gestured to the tap shoes, sounding disappointed.

"I'm going out. And bodyguard or not, if you try to follow me, you'll lose the only flesh-and-blood arm you've got left." She shoved him out of the way and left the ballroom.

Buccaneer grinned. For whatever reason, he loved seeing her get mad. It was a dangerous enjoyment, but he couldn't help himself. When her cheeks puffed out and her lips pursed, she was so…_cute_.

Whether she welcomed it or not, the thought of getting to spend time with his Queen away from Briggs and out of uniform made him happy. And seeing her spinning around and clicking her feet like that, with her hair swirling around her…he didn't even know what to call it. She'd looked almost divine. And that _voice_! At first he'd actually searched the room with his eyes to make sure there wasn't a music player and she wasn't lip-synching; she sounded so perfect. The voice of an angel for sure.

He only hoped that while he was there, he could find a way to get her to do it again.


	8. Chapter 8

"Olivier! We want to try the melodies now. Olivier, where are- Captain Buccaneer?" Amue stopped short upon seeing the bear of a man standing in the ballroom. He turned around and did a double take, as everyone did when they saw her for the first time.

"What are you doing here?" She remembered him from the pictures in the paper and had caught fleeting glimpses of him when the troops had been stashed in the cellar, but had never actually met the man.

"Uh, I was just looking for the general." He swallowed his momentary shock at Amue's appearance and cleared his throat. He'd heard the stories about the two big Armstrong girls, but hadn't believed them to be true. "Fuhrer Grumman sent me here to act as her bodyguard. I did knock on the door; your butler recognized me and let me in."

"You're her bodyguard?" Amue asked, puzzled. "What for? Is she going somewhere dangerous?" She hoped not. Olivier hadn't even been there that long.

"Nah, it's just a matter of protecting a high-ranked officer. Ya know, since she's pregnant and all. In fact, she was just here, but she left really quickly."

Amue groaned. "I wish she wouldn't do that. We need her to practice with us."

"Practice for what?" Buccaneer asked.

"Ah, Captain! We certainly weren't expecting to see you here." And in flounced Alex, sans shirt and sparkles galore. If he hadn't been a major, Buccaneer would have rolled his eyes. Did he really have to do that all the time?

"Actually, I should be in Central for quite some time," he replied, frowning. It was so strange having to look up at someone instead of down. That was the other reason he wasn't a big fan of Alex, although his older sister almost dwarfed him. How in the world Olivier came from the same family, he would never know.

"Splendid! Why don't you join us for lunch? If Olivier's run off somewhere, we can't practice anyway."

"Thanks sir, but that's okay. I'm not all that-"

"Excellent! I'll tell Mother and Father we have a guest!" Amue dashed off, leaving Buccaneer standing there awkwardly with a shirtless man.

"Uh…she doesn't need to do that, I was just-"

"Oh, it's such an honor to share a good meal with one of my sister's loyal soldiers! You men are so brave!" And before Buccaneer could run, Alex had him in a crushing hug, complete with tears of joy. Buccaneer tensed and growled, trying to pull away. Of all the Armstrong siblings, why did the _man_ have to be the one with the hug fetish? _It'd be nice if my Queen gave out hugs like this_. He smiled a little at the thought. He would gladly take a crushing hug from her any day.

"Thanks Major. You can let go now." Buccaneer barely managed to keep a respectful tone. Not only were Alex's hugs extremely suffocating, but being hugged by another guy was just…weird. He wasn't a homophobe by any means, but personally the thought of touching another man grossed him out.

"Allow me to escort you to our dining room!" Buccaneer was thankful he couldn't feel Alex's hand as he grabbed his right arm and yanked him down the corridor.

In the end, Buccaneer had to admit he was glad he'd stuck around the mansion. He hadn't tasted food like this in years, and he'd forgotten good coffee even existed. Best of all, there was so much food! Usually he had to eat in a hurry due to his strict work schedule and could never get enough. This was the first time since he could remember that he didn't have to rush and was actually full afterwards. He'd had a bit of trouble figuring out the additional cutlery, but the family had been nice about it and kindly explained it to him. He guessed they were used to people not eating like them.

After lunch was over, he'd stood up, thanked them, and told them he needed to get to his apartment to finish unpacking. After that the family had mostly gone their separate ways, and only Catherine was left. She'd been making goo-goo eyes at him all through the meal, which he'd ignored. Granted it was a nice change to have a girl interested in him instead of the other way around, and she was certainly attractive, but there was at least a ten-year age difference between them and in his mind that made her too young for him. Besides that, she was too dainty-looking, and judging from what little he'd managed to learn about her in this short timespan, they didn't appear to have much in common anyway.

"I could help you unpack," she offered, bouncing up and down a bit. "I'm great at heavy lifting. Remember how I picked up the piano when I came down to eat? Even Olivier can't do that."

He made a face. The way she'd said Olivier's name made her sound like her sister was her worst enemy. "No thanks, I'll be fine. I didn't bring a lot of stuff with me anyway." He moved toward the door, hoping she'd take the hint and go away.

"You must hate working for her," Catherine said, her eyes glistening with sympathy. "She's so mean and heartless. I keep telling her to be nicer to you poor soldiers, but she refuses. She's just determined to make all of you suffer. I don't know how you stand it."

Somehow that didn't seem right. Buccaneer knew Olivier seldom spoke to her family. "It's not that bad," he told her. "I've been in the military a long time so I've had a bunch of commanding officers, and she's the best out of all of them. To be honest, I don't think I've ever met anyone so smart and strong."

"She's not as strong as I am," Catherine replied quickly, her voice rising. "I could beat her in a fight no problem. And she's not all that smart either. I remember one time when she was in school, she got a B on a test."

Buccaneer laughed. "That's still better than me. I hated school, I was lucky if I got D's."

"Maybe that's because you were too busy being handsome," Catherine sighed. "What kind of girls did you like?"

Buccaneer had almost made it out the door when her last question stopped him. He didn't like where this conversation was going. He decided to hopefully steer her away from him gently by telling the truth.

"I guess…girls like your sister. Smart, tough, independent, strong personality, attractive-"

"She's NOT attractive!" He almost jumped; Catherine's tone was just under a shout. "She's not pretty at all! Her lips make her look like a blowfish, her hair is always greasy and in her face, her skin is too pale, her nose is too long, her voice is too low, she's always glaring at people, and she's not skinny!"

"What are you talking about?" Buccaneer frowned and narrowed his eyes. Was this girl bipolar or something? She'd gone from sweet and flirty to rage in seconds. "She's perfectly fine. She's not fat. Maybe she's not as skinny as you, but that's only because of the difference in your body types. And I like her lips and hair." _And her chest. Especially her chest. And pretty much everything else about her._

"But why?" Catherine asked, reverting back to her "sweet and innocent" mode again. "I think Olivier is just so-"

"Yes?" They both jumped at the icy voice from the corner. Olivier stood there, staring them down. "I'm just so _what_?"

Catherine's eyelashes fluttered. "You're just so…strict. With your soldiers, I mean. Poor Buccaneer, he told me he's been under your command twenty years. I don't know how he's still standing."

"Maybe because he's not a pathetic weakling like you."

"Oh, I'm not a weakling, Ollie-Em. If I wanted to, I could pick you up and throw you all the way across this room." Her tone was as gentle as ever, but Buccaneer swore he saw flames in both sisters' eyes. The way they looked at each other with such disgust was unnerving. _Is something going on between them? I gathered that they weren't much alike, but I figured they'd at least be civil._

Olivier reached behind her back and aggressively thrust out her sword. "I swear if you call me that one more time, you'll find yourself at the end of this blade."

Buccaneer had a mind to tell Catherine her sister wasn't kidding; he'd seen her slice up new recruits many times, but he had a feeling if Olivier acted the same at home as she did at Briggs, her family probably already knew what she was capable of.

Catherine, however, seemed unfazed. "You wouldn't cut up our only soprano before the Ishval concert, would you?"

"This concert is not going to happen!"

"What concert?" Buccaneer asked, puzzled. "Is an orchestra coming to Central?"

Catherine turned back to him, all google-eyed again. "Our family wants to have a concert where we would all sing as a family to raise money for Ishval, but Olivier doesn't want us to. She's too busy thinking about her reputation to care about the poor people out in the desert."

"That is a lie and you know it!" Olivier shouted. "I merely said I didn't want to participate in the concert, not that I was against having it. I encourage the rest of you to do whatever you wish."

"You mean you're not going to sing with your family? But you're so good at it," Buccaneer told her. "I'd pay plenty of money to see you onstage." He grinned. "And I bet the men would too."

"Oh, so you've heard her singing, have you?" Josephine cut in from the hallway and she quietly moved into the dining room. Buccaneer gawked. Howon _earth_ was a _woman _that tall? "She is quite talented, isn't she?"

"Mother, please stay out of this," Olivier said, trying to keep her tone calm and failing.

Josephine finger-combed her hair, which was pulled back into a tight bun, looking disinterested. "I'm not interfering in your affairs dear, I'm just agreeing with the captain. He's become a wonderful friend of the family."

He wanted to point out that he'd only just met them, but still Buccaneer smiled. Not many people considered him a friend.

"Oh, that's just dandy," Olivier snapped. "But even so, trying to turn him against me isn't going to work, Catherine. I'm not performing and that's final."

"Why not? You seemed like you were enjoying yourself," Buccaneer pointed out. He hoped he could sway her. He could just imagine watching his queen onstage, under spotlights and dressed up. _That would be something…_

"I have a reputation to uphold. I demand to be taken seriously and singing and dancing are silly activities."

"If that's true, then why did Mustang and I just see you doing both of them?"

"Mustang?" Josephine and Catherine asked. "Roy Mustang was here?" Olivier glowered at Buccaneer.

"Just go back to Briggs, you're making an annoying situation worse! I don't need you here so you might as well leave."

Buccaneer forced himself to keep his expression from changing. That hurt way more than it should have. "I'm not allowed to. Fuhrer's orders. We're stuck with each other whether we like it or not. Personally I don't mind a little break, despite the fact that I hate Central City and their pathetic excuses for soldiers."

"They're not pathetic!" Catherine protested. "Big Brother is strong! He's even stronger than you!" she glared and moved away from Buccaneer, much to his relief.

"Come now Catherine, I'm sure he wasn't including Alex in that description. In fact, I'd like you to come with me now. It's almost time for your piano lesson."

"Of course Mother. It was so nice to meet you Buccaneer!" The minute Josephine's back was turned, Catherine whirled around and gave her sister a very strong finger gesture, who returned it with equal force. Both soldiers were happy when the doors closed behind her.

Buccaneer turned back to Olivier. "In all seriousness, I think you should do it. You're infamous all over the country, much more so than your brother and sisters. I get the feeling they've put a lot of effort into this and it'll let them down if you say no. Plus I think this could give the Ishvalans more money than they've ever dreamed of. And say what you will, but I think that for all you belittle singing and dancing, you really do enjoy them."

Olivier crossed her arms over her chest and thought about that for a moment. It had been fun…actually, it had been the most fun she'd had in a long time. But still…she'd only end up embarrassing herself and losing the respect she'd worked so hard to gain.

"You should know, Olivier-" she gave him a look. "Fine. Miss Armstrong. You should know that, well, they really do need money right now. In fact, I talked to Major Miles earlier this morning and he said their funding has been cut in half thanks to the racist pantywaists in the senior staff. Apparently Grumman hasn't managed to get rid of them yet."

"The concert could still bring in plenty of money without me. I don't see why you're so eager to take my family's side."

He grinned. "Why do you think? Like I said, I would love to see you onstage. I bet Mustang would come. And his crew. And maybe we could even get Miles over here. Come on, you've got a gift. You could use it for the greater good."

"I'm not exactly in a right mind to do good deeds right now, considering my latest good deed has taken away most of the things I enjoy in life," she grumbled, frowning at her belly. When she'd looked in the mirror this morning while dressing, she could have sworn she'd seen a tiny bump. It could have just been her imagination or she could have just put on some weight from not exercising, but still it had been disturbing. Olivier was definitely not ready to be showing yet.

"I think if anything, this would only prove what a nice person you are," Buccaneer insisted gently. "Maybe it would help show people that there's a heart under all that ice."

Olivier huffed. Buccaneer noticed with satisfaction that her cheeks were puffing out again. "You're delusional. I'm _not _nice. And I don't want people to think I'm nice."

"Alright, here's my final plea. If you do the concert with your family, I'll do all the paperwork for a week when we get back."

"Tch. You'll have to do better than that."

He expected this. "Fine. Two weeks."

"Make it a month."

"Aw, come on!" Paperwork was their most hated enemy, even more so than Drachman spies. Neither of them had the desire, the attention span, or the ability to focus and sit still. Well, Olivier did, but she still hated the tediousness of it. She never complained, not once, but it was easy enough to tell by the fact that on the days where she didn't have to do any, she was always in a much better mood and was a smidge more tolerant.

"A month. Take it or leave it."

He growled. "Fine. A month."

"That's in addition to everything else you would have to do normally."

"You're really gonna make me work for this, aren't you?"

"You really have to ask?"

"Fine, fine. A month of all the paperwork for you and me, plus everything else I would normally do. And let me guess, you're going to have me scraping icicles with the new recruits the first night back, aren't you?"

She smirked. "You do know me well." Then she rolled her eyes. "I suppose, if it will get everyone off my back and give me a month free of paperwork, I'll sing one or two songs. But only one or two!"

Buccaneer's toothy smile took up his entire face. "I can't wait."


	9. Chapter 9

**Has anyone else noticed a lot of ads for surrogate moms when reading this story? 0.0**

"Mm…waddya say we have a replay of the game last night?" Roy purred seductively, stroking his wife's hair and moving closer to her.

"You enjoyed that, huh?" Riza smirked, caressing his smooth chest.

"Oh yeah." He kissed her and pulled her closer, wanting to feel her warmth, and snuggled deeper under the covers. She never looked more beautiful than when she first woke up in the morning, when the sunlight radiated off her blonde hair and warm, golden brown eyes. Especially if said morning was a morning after.

She let him engulf her in a hug and nuzzled his neck. "How much did you enjoy it?"

"Riza…" She smiled and closed her eyes, basking in the sensation of his lips all over her skin and his hands massaging her back.

"Riza, can we just stay like this forever? Come on, let's quit the military and never leave the house. Just the two of us. We could have everything we need right here. It would be perfect…"

Riza snorted. "Must you always have these crazy fantasies whenever we have a romantic evening together? You have goals, Roy. Remember those? The ones where you strive to become the leader of our country and restore Ishval?"

"But having sex with you is so much more fun," he pouted. Riza giggled, knowing he wasn't serious. Roy could sometimes get discouraged, but he never quit or took the easy way out. It just wasn't in him.

"Well, as fun as this is," Riza tousled his bedhead playfully. "I have to get ready to go."

"Go?" Roy sounded horrified and he tightened his hold on her. "You're leaving me? All alone in a cold bed and an empty house? How could you?"

She laughed. "It's eighty something degrees in the middle of June, this bed is far from cold. And you won't be in an empty house because you have to go to headquarters today to do your favorite thing in the whole wide world."

"I didn't know headquarters was giving out free beer," Roy joked.

Riza smacked his head. "You know what I meant. There's a whole stack of Ishval papers waiting just for you. And since I won't be there, I've already told the others and Grandfather to stay on you until it's done."

"But…" Roy sighed. "I thought time off meant time off, not exchanging one hard job for another."

She placed a kiss on his nose. "You know they need all the help they can get, and besides, I know you. You can't just sit around and neither can I."

"Wanna bet?"

"Roy. Get dressed."

Roy groaned. "And just what will you be doing while I'm slaving away and missing my beautiful wife?"

"I'm taking Olivier to her doctor's appointment."

"_What_?!" The comical tone of Roy's voice and his expression sent Riza into a fit of giggles. "That's what you'll be doing? What the hell for?"

"Because she's carrying our baby! I know you didn't forget that we're going to be parents in seven months."

"I know that, but why do you need to go with her? She's a big girl, let her go by herself. She'll probably bite your head off anyway."

"Actually, she needs someone to drive her. She doesn't have a license."

"Why not?" Roy was sulking now. It wasn't fair that Ice Witch was getting to be with his wife instead of him.

"Because she was never in Central City long enough to get one or need one. She was only fourteen when she entered the academy. Plus her family employs drivers so she usually just has one of them take her places."

"Exactly! So I say again, why does she need you? I'm sure someone else can drive her."

Her smile vanished. "Roy, stop. I want to be there, it's my responsibility. This is my child. If something's wrong, I want to know about it."

Roy cupped her cheek. "There won't be anything wrong. They said the procedure was a success. Everything will be fine."

"But what if it's not?" Riza's eyes flickered and her voice cracked just a tad, something only Roy would ever notice. "We lost two babies in a row, Roy. I don't think I can take losing another one."

"We won't," he insisted. When she was quiet for a moment, he tilted her chin up to make eye contact with her. "I mean it. Stop blaming yourself, it wasn't your fault."

"Every day is important in a pregnancy. I must have done something wrong. To lose one baby might have just been bad luck, but losing another one? It had to be something I did or something wrong with me."

"It wasn't. The doctor even said so. It was just one of those things. And Riza…please don't take this the wrong way, but I really don't think we need to have those memorials in the backyard. I think it's too much. It just brings back painful memories."

"They were inside my body." Riza's voice was flat and her face was stoic, the kind she used when she was trying to hide her emotions. "You wouldn't understand. I can't forget them. They were alive. I felt them. They were my babies and there was no way in hell I was going to let some unfeeling nurse flush them down the toilet or throw them out like garbage."

"Alright." Roy knew better than to argue at this point. Personally the scientist in him found it difficult to think of unborn fetuses as real people, but then he had to admit Riza was right. They had been inside her body, not his. "But don't worry. Third time's the charm. As long as Olivier doesn't screw up, you'll be holding our baby in your arms in no time. And I bet she'll be as beautiful as you."

"Or he," Riza said with a yawn. Her smile returned and she sat up, stretching. "I need to get going. I want to get her there early, she's probably nervous."

"Nervous?" Roy laughed. "Olivier Armstrong?"

"Well, yeah. I certainly was when I went for the first time. Pregnant women have to be poked and prodded in all kinds of ways."

Roy flopped back onto the pillow. "Pft. Believe me, there is no way that Olivier Armstrong is nervous about a simple doctor's appointment."

* * *

Olivier Armstrong was nervous as hell about her doctor's appointment.

So nervous that she couldn't eat and hadn't slept for a moment the night before. When she'd stumbled into a hot shower that morning, her knees had almost been shaking.

Olivier hated having to go to a doctor for any reason, ever. Doctors always got in your private business and stabbed you with needles and insisted on knowing everything about you and seeing everything you had to offer. To her it almost seemed like a suspicious profession. Who would take a job where you had to touch total strangers in intimate places and ask them questions about things that were so personal? The female ones weren't too bad and she liked the one at Briggs, but she never trusted male ones and would only seek treatment from one if there were absolutely no other option available. Unfortunately she'd been forced to go on Riza's recommendation since she needed a doctor fairly soon and wasn't familiar with any of the practices in Central.

"Are you sure you don't want me to go with you?" Josephine placed her hand on Olivier's shoulder as she slipped on her shoes. "It's no trouble at all and I'm sure Lieutenant Hawkeye won't mind."

"Mother, I'm not a little kid anymore. I don't need you to hold my hand and bribe me with lollipops."

"Of course not, but I can tell you're anxious and I thought maybe I could help. I did go through the exact same thing five times."

"I'm not anxious." Olivier glanced out the window for the fiftieth time. Still no Riza.

"Honey, you paced the floor back and forth exactly forty-three times while the servants were bringing out your breakfast. I know because I counted. And then when they brought you your breakfast, you didn't eat any."

"I'll be fine, Mother." Olivier ran a hand through her hair, shoving it out of her face. "I'll admit I don't enjoy going to the doctor, but I'll get on with it. Though to be honest, I don't think it's necessary."

"Oh, but it is. In fact, the first visit is probably the most important one you'll have."

"And the longest," Olivier muttered, unconsciously beginning to pace again. "I should have looked around for a better doctor. I got so distracted by Buccaneer showing up and this little concert of yours that it slipped my mind. Which means I'm stuck with this man."

"What's wrong with him? If Lieutenant Hawkeye is fond of him, he can't be that bad. And I did try to contact the family doctor, but unfortunately she's out of the country at the moment."

"I don't want to go to a male doctor," Olivier admitted, pushing her hair back again. "I don't want a man looking at me like that."

"Olivier, this is one of the best obstetricians in Central. He sees hundreds of women every day and his practice has been there for decades. I'm sure he'll be gentle as a lamb and that he will see you as no more than another patient."

"He'd better, or I'll make sure to bring my sword with me to my next appointment." A car horn beeped outside. "It's about time Riza showed up." She sighed wearily. "I'll be back as soon as I can get out of there."

"Take your time dear. It'll all be fine, you'll see." Josephine smiled at her firstborn, watching her trudge down the long driveway.

"She looks just like I did when I was pregnant with her," she whispered, resting her palm in her chin and smiling.

* * *

"You're going to love this doctor, Olivier. He's so friendly." Riza assured her, cruising the car into the crowded parking lot. "He actually made me look forward to going to appointments."

Olivier doubted that. Friendly people usually annoyed her, especially if they were doctors. "I still don't trust the idea of a male OB/GYN. Any man who says he wants to pursue a career in female anatomy must have an ulterior motive. He better not try anything or he'll wind up with a fist in his face."

"You have nothing to worry about. He's funny and sweet and has a gentle touch. The first visit is a little tedious but all the ones after that are fairly short." Riza switched off the ignition and turned to Olivier with a gentle smile. "I know it sounds crazy, but try to enjoy it. There are some exciting parts. We'll get to know the due date and you'll have your first ultrasound."

"Great. Just what I've always dreamed of."

Riza tensed and her smile waned a tad. "It's just so miraculous to see the baby show up on the sonogram. It's too early to know the sex, but we'll be able to hear the heartbeat. That always makes me tear up a little bit."

"Tch. Save your tears this time. And this doctor friend of yours had better watch what he touches. Let's just get this over with." She climbed out of the car and slammed the door, stalking towards the entrance and leaving Riza scampering to catch up with her.

Olivier's temper had shortened considerably these past weeks (not that it had been especially long before). She wasn't even showing yet and still for the last two months since the operation, everyone who knew she was pregnant had grabbed her stomach and insisted on touching it, feeling it, rubbing it, patting it, listening to it, and creepiest of all, talking to it. Her inventory of broken toothpicks had increased tenfold; she'd spent numerous hours snapping and growling that just because she was a surrogate it didn't mean her body wasn't off-limits to pretty much everybody. She couldn't believe she was only eight weeks into the pregnancy and already couldn't wait for it to be over.

A part of her wondered if she'd made a huge mistake.


	10. Chapter 10

**Two chapters later and still hardly any reviews. Guess people have lost interest. **

**Warning: expect mild crack ahead.**

Waiting rooms were horrible places. Olivier actually had to put her hands over her ears to block out the noise of screaming, obnoxious children roughhousing in the play area. There was a sizable selection of different magazines to choose from, but there were two things they all had in common: none of them were current, and none of them looked interesting. The armrests of the chair she was in were so close together they almost touched her sides, there was no headrest and the bottom was hard. She fidgeted restlessly and kept her eyes glued to the clock.

Riza looked up from her magazine. She put her hand on Olivier's shoulder. "Don't be so nervous. It'll be fine."

"I'm not nervous," she lied. "I'm just irritated that those stupid kids are so loud. Why are they here anyway? I thought this was supposed to be a doctor for adults."

"A lot of the women who come here are mothers and they have to bring their children with them."

"Watching them is making me glad this kid's yours. I can't fathom why people _want _to have those screaming, crying, bratty wretches."

Riza shook her head. "You're awfully harsh." She returned to her magazine. "Maybe someday you'll understand."

"Hmpth." Olivier leaned back and closed her eyes, trying to just relax and not listen to the noise around her. She felt a hand on her stomach and gripped the armrest hard. "Riza, do you mind?"

"What are you talking about? I'm not doing anything."

Olivier opened her eyes and started. The hand belonged to a little girl who was smiling up at her.

Olivier snarled. "Beat it, kid."

The little girl only smiled wider. "I know what you have in there. You have a little baby. I can tell by your effervescent glow."

"Good for you. Now scram." She batted her hand away.

"I know how the baby got there too."

Olivier paused. This girl couldn't have been more than five. "How?"

"It takes a he-who and a ha-ha. Put 'em together and they make a baby."

"A what now?" Olivier raised an eyebrow. What in the world did this girl's parents say to her?

"I also know about lollipops."

"The hell? Lollipops?"

The girl stood up taller and widened her eyes so much it almost looked scary. Her grin expanded and she winked. "Lollipops." Her tone of voice was extremely questionable.

"I heard that part. What about them?"

"I know about…" She licked her lips very slowly. "Lollipops."

Olivier's eye twitched.

"Ya wanna know what else I know?"

"I really don't care. No go away before I hurt you." She smacked the girl's hand away. In a second, the girl was screaming at the top of her lungs, attracting the attention of everyone in the waiting room.

"The bad lady hit me and said she's gonna hurt me!"

"She what?" Oh great. Now the adults were staring at her. So was Riza.

"Hey lady! What'd you do to my kid?" a very pregnant woman waddled over and leaned over her. Her bump was almost right in Olivier's face. "You got somethin' to say?"

Olivier stared at the bump for a second and groaned internally. In a few months that would be her. She pushed the woman away and met her glare with one of her own. "You should learn to watch your children."

"Don't you tell me what to do! You've got no right to threaten my daughter!"

"Ladies, please!" Riza shot out of her chair and attempted to push them apart. "I'm sure no one meant any harm, so please don't start a scene. You two shouldn't get worked up in your condition anyway."

"Oh, so she's pregnant too?" the woman glanced, perhaps enviously, at Olivier's flat stomach in disgust. "I feel sorry for that kid. With a mom like you, it'll probably end up in social services before it can talk."

"You're one to talk. If my kid ever asked me where babies came from, I'd tell him about the stork! I certainly wouldn't give him a sex education class!"

The woman gasped. Riza barely resisted glaring at Olivier.

The little girl's eyes widened with curiosity. "Mommy, what's sex?"

"You see what you've done?" her mother screamed. "You little wretch! Now what am I gonna tell her?"

"You mean there's anything left to tell?"

"Olivier Armstrong?" Olivier and Riza had never been more thankful than at the moment the nurse announced Olivier's name. Riza practically dragged Olivier in, who decided to teach the little girl a new finger gesture as she walked away.

"Here she is!" Riza shoved her towards the nurse and Olivier stiffened, making a note to knock Riza's assertiveness down a few pegs.

"Doctor Dodo will be with you in just a moment. In the meantime you can come on back to his office and wait."

Olivier paused. "What did you say his name was?"

"Dr. Dodo. You know, like the extinct bird?"

"My doctor's name is Dodo? That's not very reassuring," she said, directing her chilly tone at Riza.

She shrugged sheepishly. "It's just his name. I promise you he's very nice." She followed Olivier and the nurse into a big room with all kinds of complicated medical equipment set up. In the middle was a large adjustable chair that was reclined all the way back.

"You can go ahead and sit down, Miss Armstrong. He'll be right in."

Riza sat in one of the chairs against the wall while Olivier settled herself uneasily in the big one. To her annoyance, her fingers were rubbing together on their own, a sure sign she was anxious.

"I remember my first visit," Riza said. "I had no idea what to expect. But luckily he breaks the ice right away and he's good about not making the intimate parts awkward."

"Intimate parts? Like what?" Olivier was secretly glad Riza had wanted to go with her. It was reassuring to know another woman would be there, even if she wasn't thrilled about a lower-ranked officer seeing her in a vulnerable state.

"Like when he does the Pap smear and the ultrasound. That kind of thing."

"He's doing a Pap smear?" Olivier tried to keep the apprehension out of her voice. How could men even be allowed to do something like that to a woman? It was so…invasive. Almost like trespassing.

"Yeah, it's a standard thing for pregnant women. I know, I didn't like it either. I don't think any woman does."

Olivier barely muffled a groan. Pap Smears were the worst, even when women did them. If Olivier had to choose between getting shot or getting a Pap Smear, she would have taken the bullet in a second. Being in pain was better than having her legs in stirrups with her insides on display and getting a stick pushed into her.

"Do you want me to leave during that part?" Riza asked. "I can come back when he starts the ultrasound."

Olivier shrugged, pretending not to care. "Do whatever you like."

Riza started to say something, but was cut off by the door opening. A tall, gawky man with orange curly hair and pale blue eyes stepped in. To Olivier's dismay, a waft of what smelled like onion rings sailed in with him. In fact, she was just now realizing how awful the room smelled. Like a cross between antiseptic, onion rings, and sickeningly sweet sugar. It was making her stomach churn.

"Hello! My name is Doctor Stanley Dodo." She nearly cringed at the high pitch. _How does a man have that voice? He sounds like Alphonse Elric and Catherine had a baby. _But she stood up and shook his hand regardless.

"Sorry about the wait, I was just finishing up my lunch." He swiftly handed her a crinkled bag, almost shoving it in her face. So that was where the smell had come from. "Would you like some?"

Olivier didn't even have a chance to say no before the stench overpowered her. She did, however, get a good look at Dr. Dodo's dirty white shoes as whatever remained of last night's dinner came rising back up into her throat and pouring out of her mouth. Chunks of what she guessed were pineapple clung to her hair and landed on her clothing.

"So I'm guessing you're already experiencing morning sickness."

Olivier closed her eyes and moaned, holding her stomach.

This visit was not starting out well.

**I know people are going to say that incident with the little girl isn't realistic. Sadly, it is, 'cause it was based on a true story! XP How am I doing with Riza so far? PLEASE REVIEW! **

**Thank you Xodiac 451, Shadow's Interceptor, MoonStarDutchess, Shattered Petal, talentscout1, RainAlchemist201, Kiyanna the dark mistress, janeway74656kat, Hopeless Alchemist, and FemGenyo Sanzo for your feedback and compliments. And thank you jesselover33 for being my buddy. :)**


	11. Chapter 11

**I want to take a moment and explain why I think Olivier and Buccaneer work better as a couple than Olivier and Miles because apparently there's not a huge fanbase for that. See, in terms of canon, there's about equal evidence for both if you think about it. We hardly ever see the Briggs Bears unfortunately and it's obvious Olivier cares for both of them and they care for her, so you could make a case for either one. But here's the way I see it.**

**Go back through Brotherhood and just look at the facial expressions on Olivier and Buccaneer. You'll notice that at some points, particularly during battle, that they are eerily similar. They've both got that sinister smile (like when Olivier is about to fight Sloth in Central and Buccaneer has just flipped Sloth and is watching her in the tank), they've both got a bit of a mischievous side and a nasty temper, they both seem to appreciate nature and love the cold (as opposed to Miles who probably prefers the desert), and they each had a bear in the background next to their faces to give them authenticity! XD But mostly it's that scene where she says, "Now you get to see the Briggs way." They both had big grins on their faces. My point is that Olivier and Buccaneer seem to ****_enjoy _****the Briggs lifestyle whereas Miles mostly just seems to tolerate it. He's a lot more serious and straight-faced and doesn't seem to have any of the personality traits I just mentioned. I don't think he enjoys fighting and crushing people and being scary the way they do. He doesn't get satisfaction out of it but instead just follows orders. To me Olivier and Buccaneer are more alike and in my mind that makes their relationship more plausible. That's just my opinion anyway.**

Olivier stared blankly at the mirror in the bathroom, letting her hair drape into the sink so the chunks of vomit could be washed off. Her face was even paler than usual and her cheeks looked a little green. Her stomach was in knots and her mouth tasted awful. All she wanted to do was curl up in her bed under a massive pile of blankets with a heating pad and a tall glass of water and sleep. She hadn't had morning sickness once during her whole pregnancy, but of course now that she was at a public place that she couldn't leave right away and was meeting her doctor for the first time, naturally _now _would be the time for her to start.

_It's not too late to back out, right? _She thought to herself, moaning again. That vomit had come out of nowhere. Usually when she was going to throw up she knew about it beforehand, but this had been so sudden she'd barely had time to bend over. Dr. Dodo was going to need a new pair of shoes. And she was probably going to need a new doctor, since she had probably caused him to form the worst possible impression of her, what with her projecting already-digested food onto his feet without so much as a howdy do.

"Olivier?" Riza's voice was barely audible over the sound of running water. "Are you okay?"

"I'm wonderful, why wouldn't I be?" she barked. She switched off the water and sighed. The smell still lingered and the ends of her hair and clothes were wet, but she was about as presentable as she could be in this situation. Best get the rest of the visit over with so she could go home and sleep.

"Are we all better and ready to go?" Dr. Dodo asked as she emerged from the restroom. His shoes had been wiped clean, but there were still spots of orange and he smelled almost as bad as she did. He didn't seem to be upset about it though.

"Fine." Olivier ran a hand through her hair, wishing her stomach would stop aching. "Just make this quick."

"Don't you worry, it'll be faster than a runaway roach. Just sit down right there and I'll ask you about your health. Then we'll get to the physical stuff. Hopefully you'll be feeling better by then."

Olivier wrinkled her nose a bit. He had a funny accent that she couldn't place. Cretan maybe? She was surprised he was still being friendly, if she'd been in his shoes (literally), she would have been pissed. She shrugged and returned to the big chair, Riza taking the smaller one beside her. Dr. Dodo grabbed a clipboard and ran over a sheet of paper with a pen.

"First off, you've never been pregnant before, right?"

"No. I've never conceived a child in my life." Olivier answered, eying the myriad of equipment in the room. What in the world was all of this used for?

"Any STIs or STDs?"

"No. And before you ask, I'm not sexually active. Haven't been for years." Riza raised an eyebrow at that one, which Olivier tried to ignore. Commanding a fort didn't leave her with a lot of time for getting laid, and it wasn't particularly something she missed.

"Any symptoms been sneakin' up on you? Besides morning sickness, I mean."

Olivier shook her head. "No. That was the first time I've been sick."

"Oh, it was?" He raised an orange eyebrow. "So you're a nervous nelly then, huh?"

"No! Although I will admit I'm not happy to be here."

"Aw come on, I'm not that bad," he joked. "I'm a nice guy."

"We'll see about that," Olivier said.

He grinned. "Yes we will. Have you sprung any leaks?"

Olivier made a face. "What?"

"Has anything leaked from your vagina?" Riza asked bluntly.

_Why would he ask it like that? _"No, nothing."

"Alright, good." From the way the clipboard was turned, Olivier could see his chicken scratch handwriting. It was even worse than Buccaneer's. "Any allergies?"

"No."

"Special medical conditions that you've been diagnosed with?"

"No."

"Have you ever been a victim of abuse?"

_Well I have been stabbed and shot by Drachman spies on more than one occasion. _But she knew he meant domestic abuse, so again she told him no.

"And are you mentally competent?"

Olivier scoffed. "What do you think, idiot?" Riza cringed. Dr. Dodo laughed.

"Sorry, I have to ask that. The clipboard demands it."

"Are there any other ridiculous questions like that one?"

"Now I have to ask you about your menstrual cycle."

"What about it?" she asked defensively.

"Well, what's it like? Are you regular? Is your flow light or heavy? That kind of thing."

Olivier growled. This was never a pleasant thing to talk about with a man. Especially one that insisted on acting goofy. He was reminding her of Mustang and she didn't like that. "It's irregular, I never know when the stupid thing will show up. Every time I think I know, I'm proven wrong. I'm normally fairly heavy, and only bleed for about five days. After that it's spotting, if anything, for the next two days. The one good thing about getting pregnant is that I haven't seen it for two months."

"That's what I hear from a lot of my patients. Something about bleeding for a week a month and getting bloated breasts and bellyaches that doesn't sit well with the ladies. Now, last question. How are you feeling in general? Any complaints, worries, questions?"

"When does the thing come out and how bad will it hurt?"

"We'll find that out when we do the ultrasound. As to how much it will hurt, that depends on the size of the baby, how healthy you are, that sort of thing. Anything else?"

"Are there any vitamins she can take or anything like that to make sure the baby's healthy?" Riza asked. Olivier glared at her.

"Yes, I plan to give you some prescription prenatal vitamins after the visit. Take one everyday with a meal. Now if there are no more questions or concerns, I'm going to check your blood pressure. Just hold still while my instrument gives your arm a good hug." Olivier wanted to punch that idiotic smile off his face.

Olivier lay back and tried to relax as he wrapped the padding tightly around her arm. She hated the way Riza and the doctor were staring at her. It was too awkward. She kept her gaze on the ceiling and tried to ignore the squeezing motion on her arm.

"Mm, everything looks good. Now we need to check your weight and I need to collect a urine sample from you. Then we'll do the Pap Smear and the ultrasound."

Olivier barely stifled a groan. "Is a Pap Smear absolutely necessary?"

"Yes, it's essential unless you just recently had one. When was your last?"

"About a year ago," Olivier answered, her heart sinking.

"Then yes, you're going to need it. Don't worry, it won't take long. I do them everyday, several times a day. I know vaginas like the back of my hand."

Olivier shot a glare at him, not amused by his weak attempt at humor, and stepped on the scale he gestured to after removing her shoes.

"Hmm…not bad, but it seems you're just a bit underweight. That's not good for you or the baby, so you should try to gain some. Eat some of that chocolate you girls like so much."

"I'm already going to gain weight just from being pregnant, why do I need more?" It wouldn't do to have too much fat on her when she returned to Briggs.

"It's vital for any pregnant woman to be at just the right weight for her size, Miss Armstrong. Have you been doing any strenuous exercise?"

"Just walking. That's all."

"How long?"

"A couple of hours. It varies."

Riza bit her lip. Dr. Dodo shook his head. "That's way too much. You need to cut back to about one hour, two max. And it's important for you to eat right too. Lots of fruits, vegetables, grains, water and yogurt. No alcohol obviously, no refrigerated meat, nothing with raw eggs, no fish, no more than twelve ounces of coffee per day, and no lettuce or cabbage. The important thing is resting and not exerting too much energy."

"I can assure you the energy I exerted walking was a small fraction of what my body can do."

"Ah, the alpha female type, huh? I had a feeling." Dr. Dodo had a wide gap between his two front teeth that was painfully obvious whenever he smiled, which was nearly every second. He lived up to his name quite well. He reached out to pat her stomach and she bristled. "When you give that up, you can go right back to working yourself silly. But right now you've got a fragile little soul in there and it can't handle being bounced around too much."

Olivier scowled.

"You've only got seven more months," Riza reminded her, though her tone was forced. "It'll be over before you know it."

"That's easy for you to say, considering you can still go and do as you please." Olivier shot her a glare. Her stomach was still in a tizzy and her bad mood was growing worse.

_Why _had she ever agreed to this?

* * *

Several more questions and an extremely awkward urine sample later, the dreaded moment came.

"Shall we get to the Pap Smear?" Dr. Dodo asked. The way he said it made it sound as though the procedure was something to look forward to. Not that he would ever know, considering he was always standing in front of the examining table and never lying on top of it.

"Fine." Olivier gritted her teeth as he turned to his tools lying on the counter. Riza sheepishly sat back down and averted her eyes as Olivier began to undress from the waist down. When the lower part of her body was fully exposed, Olivier awkwardly sat down on the cold metal table, crinkling the white sheet that had been placed over it. Just for a second, Riza glanced to her, and at the sight of her reaction to seeing her naked, Olivier wanted to smack her, and she wished she'd taken Riza up on her offer to leave. She snatched the sheet Dr. Dodo had started to hand her and placed it over her legs, not wanting him to see any more than was necessary.

"You really don't like this, do you, Miss Armstrong?"

"What was your first clue?"

"Hey, come on. At least it's better than going to the dentist and having your teeth pulled. Right?"

"Like hell it is. I'd much prefer having someone's hand in my mouth than between my legs."

"Fair enough. This won't take long though, I promise. Just put your feet into the stirrups for me and I'll make it quick and dirty. But not that kind of dirty," he said, winking his eye. Riza giggled. Olivier sulked.

There they were. The dreaded stirrups. She slowly scooted down and lifted her legs, careful not to let the sheet fall off, and bent her knees so that the lower portion of her legs and feet would fit into the cold metal, hating the way she could feel herself opening up as she did so. She winced as Dr. Dodo carefully inserted the rubber duckbill-like tool that would keep her folds spread. This position was so foreign to her and "uncomfortable" did not even begin to describe it. And to top it off, the room was freezing and she was getting a draft where she shouldn't have.

"That's a good girl. Now just relax and try to think about something else."

That was quite possibly the most useless advice Olivier had ever heard. How could she ignore the fact that a strange _man _was touching the most private part of her and putting something inside her? Her heartbeat increased. She hadn't had sex in years, what if he was too forceful and damaged something? She tensed as his hands slid between her legs and under the sheet, prodding the spot where she assumed her uterus was.

His head popped up from behind the sheet. "Sweetheart, _relax_. I promise you I'm very careful. If you're tensed up it's only going to feel worse. Just lie still and leave all the work to me."

Much as she loathed him for it, Olivier knew he was right. She scrunched her eyes tight and took a deep breath, attempting to focus on relaxing her pelvic muscles. _Stop being a baby, it's just a little pressure. Won't even hurt. _The doctor at Briggs was used to her dreading her yearly physical and over the years had managed to develop just the right touch so that Olivier almost didn't even feel it. She sorely missed that now that she had a new doctor who was a man rightfully named Dodo.

"This'll just take a second…" Olivier lifted her head and craned her neck, but she couldn't see what he was doing over the sheet spread across her legs. She wanted to see the speculum, know what she was up against. And to make sure he wasn't putting anything _else _inside her. But she couldn't, so she laid her head back and sighed. Her eyes snapped open when she felt a hand squeeze hers. Riza was smiling softly at her. It was then Olivier noticed she had gorgeous eyes. _That Mustang prick is getting so much more than he deserves._

"It'll be okay," she said softly. "And thank you."

Olivier snatched her hand away, furious that Riza was seeing her act weak. This would kill her reputation if it ever got out. "Of course it will be okay. It's just a routine physical," she muttered.

"Even so, I get that it's uncomfortable. I don't like them either."

"I would certainly hope not."

"Don't worry ladies, it'll be over in just a minute. Now relax, and…" Olivier returned her gaze to the ceiling.

"Here comes the train! Choo-choo! Into the tunnel!"

Riza glared at Dr. Dodo. Olivier pushed herself up with her arms and made him look her in the eye. "Just. Put. The stick. In my vagina already, and _be done with it_! Halfwit."

He looked sheepish. "Sorry, just a little joke I use to lighten the mood. Lie back down for me and I'll get right to it." Olivier obeyed, growling as she did so. A few minutes of uncomfortable pressure later, the Pap Smear was finally done and Olivier dressed herself as fast as possible while Riza and Dr. Dodo talked prenatal vitamins in the hallway.

"Please tell me we're finished here." Olivier said when she was fully clothed again. She still wasn't feeling much better. This room smelled awful and made her feel trapped. It was tiny, barely bigger than a prison cell, and the walls were an ugly orangey cream color. The pictures on the wall that showcased parts of the body ravaged with disease and the boxes of needles weren't helping.

"Now we just have to do the ultrasound and then you can go. Just lie back on the chair and pull your shirt up for me. I promise you this will be painless."

"See to it that you treat me like an adult this time, or I won't be able to say the same for you," Olivier said, settling herself in the chair, eying him angrily as he connected wires and pressed buttons, readying the machines. She'd just gotten dressed and now she had to be half-naked again. _This is probably why he's grinning like a fool all the time._

Riza was focused on the sonogram. Her heart jumped. She didn't know whether to be excited or nervous. Ultrasounds brought up bad memories for her; they were when she'd found out her children would never be born. _Please let this one be healthy and make it through the pregnancy, whoever's up there. Please._

"Ready?" Dr. Dodo asked. They both nodded. He squirted the gel onto Olivier's stomach, who shivered a bit from the cold, and gently pushed the scanner through it. Instantly an image appeared and the two women strained to see it. After the scanner was moved around a bit and the picture changed, all three of them gasped.

"Please tell me that's not what I think it is," Olivier groaned.

Riza covered her mouth. "No way. That can't be. This…this can't be happening." Her lip quivered and she felt her eyes begin to water. "There has to be some mistake. Are you sure your machine is right, Doctor?"

"I'm afraid it is what it is, ladies. Nothing I can do about it," he shrugged. He turned to Olivier. "I assume you can tell what that picture means too?"

Olivier snarled, frustrated. "It's fairly obvious. I should have known this was a bad idea. With my luck this would happen."

She regretted saying yes more now than ever.

**Aww...poor Olive and Riza. :'( I purposely did not say what Riza's reaction was to seeing Olivier naked, you'll see why in future chapters. Is this story moving too fast? I'm used to writing oneshots and newspaper articles so normally I keep things fast and short with little description. Makes writing the longer stuff a tad more challenging. Is it even funny anymore...?**

**Also I didn't go into detail about the Pap Smear because I've never had one done, though I did research it because I'm scared to death of it. If anyone has any advice where that's concerned, it'd sure be nice. :/**


	12. Chapter 12

"Ooh, Captain! Please come in!" Buccaneer grimaced as Catherine yanked him through the huge doors of the mansion. That glint in her eyes was back and he didn't like it. _I thought it was the butler's job to answer the door. _He winced at the dirt that fell from his shoes, staining the pristine carpets, but Catherine didn't seem to mind.

"Is your sister home yet? I just wanted to see how her doctor's appointment went." It wasn't hard to know Olivier hated any form of medical treatment. More soldiers were put on trash and icicle shifts during the week everyone had their annual physical than any other time of the year. And the one time she'd fallen into a freezing lake (it was in the summer when the snow was slushy and ice was thinner), she'd avoided the doctor to the last second, despite her entire body turning blue and her being unable to stop shivering. The doctor had given he very stern lecture, saying if Miles and Buccaneer hadn't practically shoved her into sickbay when they did, she could have been paralyzed or gotten pneumonia.

"Why are you so worried about _her_? I'm sure it went fine, and no, she's not home yet. But I'd be happy to keep you company until she arrives. And maybe after too." She fluttered her eyelashes. Buccaneer searched for the words to say no. It was getting increasingly hard not to blush. Her tone was so _sweet_ and she was so _tiny_. If it weren't for the strength he knew she secretly possessed, he would have sworn she was adopted.

"Uh…look kid, I think you've got the wrong idea. I'm just not interested in-"

"Come on, I'll fix you some tea!" Buccaneer was grateful she'd grabbed his left arm; if it had been his right the pulling would have hurt a lot. He muffled a groan as she dragged him through the parlor/living room/whatever the hell it was. Nothing was out of place and portraits of people with huge builds, blonde hair in crazy up-dos, and blue eyes lined the striped walls. He almost squinted from how bright and colorful the mansion was. _Maybe the reason they sparkle is because they've got all these chandeliers shining on them all the time. But at least there's plenty of elbow room._

Catherine snapped her fingers, and instantly a maid materialized out of nowhere. A grin tugged at his lips when he realized the female servants here wore the stereotypical black dresses with white aprons and bonnets. It was demeaning, but rather sexy. If Olivier wore one of those French maid outfits, not that she ever would, but if she did…_wow_. He doubted he'd have the self-control he normally did. Take away the glare and she'd look just like a doll…a very sexy doll…one he'd want to play with all night long…

"Buccaneer?" Catherine frowned. He broke out of his daze and looked back at her. She was holding out a teacup. "Here you go."

"Wow, that was fast. Thanks. But I really can't stay, I have to check in with the fort-"

"Oh, just for a little while. We haven't seen you in over two weeks! Pleeeasse?" She bit her lip and her eyes looked watery. _Aw jeez don't cry on me. I can't stand to see girls cry._

"Well okay, but-"

"Great! So what do you think of this dress?" She set her own teacup down and pulled at her white frilly dress, adjusting it so that it rested even further down her bosom. He'd noticed upon walking in that it was awfully short; it barely covered the essentials. _Do her parents know she's wearing this?_ The rest of the family dressed so conservatively it was hard to imagine they would be okay with it. The V-neck, lack of sleeves, and tightness turned her B-cups into C-cups, and the material was thin enough that he could see her nipples. Plus it was white.

"Uh…it's a little, uh…" _Slutty. _Hell, he wouldn't want a girl he _was _attracted to dressing like that. Well, at least not in public. _Olivier would never be able to fit into that. Her tits are so much bigger they'd probably tear the fabric wide open. _He started to snicker at that thought, but covered it up by pretending to cough.

"Some bread, Miss Catherine?" the maid reappeared behind her. Buccaneer immediately shifted his gaze to the outfit. _Now that she could wear._

"Yes please, and let's be quick about it," Catherine said, snapping her fingers and returning her gaze to the man in front of her, who unbeknownst to her was no longer listening. "Now what was I saying? Oh right, this dress. It used to be longer, but I had it altered and I think it looks so much better this way, don't you? I normally wear pink, but I think now I'm starting to grow out of it, it's such a little-girl color. Now I'm thinking I might try red. What do you think? Would you like to see me in red?"

_The dress would look just like that, with the short puffy sleeves. Olivier likes gloves, so she could wear the long ones. I bet her hands are so soft under those gloves. And let's see…there could be a drawstring in the back so the dress could be taken off easily. No, not a drawstring, a bow. A great big white bow. That would look HOT. And then maybe instead of the bonnet she'd have a big black bow on her head. Or maybe bunny ears. And a little tail on her butt to show off her assets…and she could tap dance very slowly…oh man…wow…_

"Um, hello? Why do you keep zoning out on me?"

Buccaneer blinked rapidly, trying to shake the pervy vision out of his head. "Uh, I just…have a lot on my mind." He shifted nervously and, to his dismay, realized something truly terrible.

He was getting a boner.

_Shoot._

"Maybe you're just _distracted_," Catherine purred, leaning over the table to get closer to his face. She tugged on one of his facial hairs. "I can certainly see why." Buccaneer made a face. He normally wasn't one to complain about having a pretty girl's breasts right under his nose, but this was one girl he just wasn't interested in. _Why can't she take a hint?_

"But that's enough about me. Tell me about your life, Captain. What was your childhood like?"

_Bam! _

"Unbelievable!" Olivier's voice could be heard clear across the mansion, and so could the sound of the huge door being slammed as she stalked through the house without bothering to remove her shoes. "This is an outrage!"

_Crash! _Buccaneer didn't have to see her to know the Armstrong family was now short one glass.

"What happened?" he yelled. He started to get up, but immediately sat back down as he remembered the tightness in his pants. "Is everything okay?"

"No everything is not okay! This is the worst news I could possibly have gotten!" Catherine frowned and Buccaneer cringed as the double doors to the room they were in were flung open and Olivier stood there with her D&D (deadly and dangerous, as the Briggs Bears had so affectionately dubbed it) face on.

"Olivier! What on earth happened? You don't mean-"

Buccaneer swore there had to be some kind of Armstrong sixth sense. Just like that, the rest of the family had burst through the other set of doors. First Josephine, then Amue and Alex, followed by Strongine and Philip. Soon the major general was surrounded. Upon seeing her parents, Buccaneer turned so that the tablecloth hid his lower body. The last thing he needed was them getting the wrong idea, and he was really starting to wish Catherine would move.

"Please tell me it's not true!" Amue cried, clutching a handkerchief, which was almost buried in her enormous hands.

"Worst news? That's just awful!" Strongine said.

"How tragic!" Alex sobbed, sparkles and tears catching the light of the many chandeliers.

"Poor Lieutenant Hawkeye, she and the Colonel must be heartbroken," Josephine agreed.

"Oh, there's nothing worse than a dead baby," Philip rumbled.

"Dead? Who said anyone died?" Olivier raised an eyebrow.

The room was silent for a moment. "Well, what news could be worse than the baby dying?" Buccaneer asked.

"Tch. That's hardly the case. In fact, just the opposite happened. Riza almost burst into tears right then and there, and I imagine Mustang must be pissing himself with happiness." Olivier growled, crossing her arms and scowling.

"Happiness? I thought you said the news was bad," Buccaneer reminded her.

"It is bad! For me!"

"What do you mean? Is there something wrong with you, honey?" Amue tousled Olivier's hair and Olivier swatted her hand away.

"Amue, I told you, don't call me honey. And of course nothing's wrong with me, I'm fine."

"Then why is the news bad for you? Come on Olivier, out with it!" Strongine insisted.

Olivier ignored her and cracked her knuckles, the D&D intensifying. "When I get my hands on Colonel Dickweed…I swear, it's just like his DNA to go and multiply on me!"

"Multiply?" everyone repeated in unison. There was silence for a moment, then a collective gasp.

"You don't mean…there's more than one?!" Alex asked, eyes bulging.

Olivier rolled her eyes. "What gave it away, idiot? Turns out I'm having twins."

"Oh, how marvelous!"

Buccaneer chuckled as ten beefy hands encircled Olivier and her entire body was buried under her family, who ignored her shouts for them to get off.

"Twins? Oh Olivier, that's so amazing!"

"I love twins! They're so cute!"

"Colonel Mustang and his wife must be so happy! What a blessing for them."

"Let go before I tear you all apart limb from limb!" Olivier scrambled to her feet and brushed herself off. She turned, finally acknowledging Buccaneer. "What are you doing here?"

He shrugged. "Just wanted to see how it went. So what kind of twins are they?"

"It's far too early to know that yet. But the doctor thinks they're fraternal."

"Aw, that's a shame," Amue said. "Identical twins are the cutest. But at least this way people can tell them apart. You're so lucky, Olivier."

"_Lucky?_" Olivier whipped around. "Quit acting like this is a good thing. I signed up for one baby, not two! Now I get twice the annoyance for the price of one!"

"That's not true Olivier, having twins isn't _that _different from having a single baby," Josephine told her calmly. From what Buccaneer could tell she seemed to be the sanest of the bunch. "And you'll be happy to know that they generally come earlier than single babies, so you won't be pregnant as long."

"But I'll be twice as big," Olivier muttered. She didn't feel like sharing the rest of the news with her family; they'd made enough fuss for one day. But when Dr. Dodo had run the scanner over her belly, he'd discovered something else.

_"These are awfully big babies for just eight weeks. Now that might not mean anything, but it looks like they could be abnormally large. And if you've got twins and both of them are abnormally large…" He's turned to face her with a sheepish grin. "Simply put, you're gonna be big. Very big. More than most pregnant women. And with twins, you'll probably grow twice as fast, so enjoy your flexibility while you can, because those days are numbered."_

Olivier hadn't been very happy to hear that. Maybe the tiny bump she'd discovered really hadn't been her imagination. But there was nothing to be done about it now, so she had no choice but to deal with it. And at least Riza was happy. "Ecstatic" might be a better word. The twins had been more than obvious on the sonogram and Riza had actually had a bit of a moment right there in the office, but she'd quickly recovered and resumed her normal seriousness. When she and Olivier had gotten back in the car, Riza had smiled and thanked her quietly. Olivier had felt something strange well up in her chest and had quickly turned away to face the window, instructing Riza to take her home right away.

"Wait! We almost forgot to tell her the other news!" Philip bellowed.

"What other news?" Olivier was instantly on high alert. This couldn't be good. Especially not with that twinkle in her father's eye.

"We've managed to acquire an orchestra, a decorating committee, and have hundreds of invitations all ready to go. In other words, all the arrangements have been made and the Armstrong Five benefit concert is definitely a go!"

"Hurray!" Even Buccaneer raised an arm at that, though he refrained from shouting the goofy phrase.

Olivier was steaming. "Not that nonsense again."

"But I thought you said you were going to do it," Buccaneer pointed out. She shot him a glare. He was one of her soldiers; he was supposed to be on her side.

"Oh please don't say no, dear." Josephine begged. "Your brother and sisters are so excited and your father has worked very hard to get everything ready. It wasn't easy trying to get all of this done before you get too far into your second trimester."

"That's only a month away, Mother." She paused. Wow. It really was only a month away. _Great. _"We'll never be able to do it in time. Especially not with twins."

"Of course we can!" Alex assured her. "The art of quick efficiency has been passed down the Armstrong line for generations!"

"Come on general," Buccaneer taunted. He had an idea. He gave her the best sneer he could muster. "You're so talented and strong this should be a piece of cake for you. Unless of course you're afraid."

"Why would I be afraid of singing and dancing?" Her cheeks puffed out and her eyes narrowed, just as he'd planned. _Just like clockwork._

"Well…" He drummed his fingers on the table, pretending to think and trying not to notice how good she looked in jeans. "It _is _a lot of pressure. All those people staring at you. You're probably afraid you'll mess up. But it's okay. It's perfectly natural to be afraid. Although I wouldn't expect that of our Ice Queen-"

"Shut up! I am _not _afraid! I could sing and dance better than half the population with my eyes closed and my hands tied! I'll perform at this concert and show you just how not afraid I am!"

"Hurray!" Olivier grit her teeth as her family cheered again.

First she'd become pregnant with Mustang's twins, and now she was going to sing and dance with her siblings onstage in front of the entire country.

_I don't think I'll be taking another vacation anytime soon. _

**Heh, now we know why Olivier never goes home. Because crazy stuff happens to her! Thank you for reviewing Tractorgang, Beth of Liz, Okami, Anonymousgal, and Guest. Please keep them coming! They definitely help. The longer they are, the better.**

**And thank you Jesselover33 for being the sunshine in my life. ;) You rock for reading my stories! **


	13. Chapter 13

Olivier retreated to her bedroom (or, as her family called it, her cave) as soon as she possibly could, snatching a pair of toothpicks from the kitchen on her way up. She sat on the balcony (yes, her room actually had a balcony) that faced the backyard, watching the annoyingly perfect summer scenery and snapping toothpicks, grumbling. She missed the harshness of being surrounded by military men. Everything was so orderly with nothing out of place. She controlled every single aspect of the environment, and the days and nights were filled with useful, practical tasks without pointless conversation. Briggs ruled by survival of the fittest first and foremost, but another, more unspoken rule they lived by was that talk was cheap. Action was always better.

But here in the Armstrong mansion, it was like Olivier's world had been flipped, turned upside down, and dropped. There was too much chaos, too much mushiness, too much talking and _way _too much affection. Despite being heir to the estate and the oldest sibling, she wasn't in charge here. She'd been commander of an isolated fort and a high-ranking officer for so long it was sometimes hard to remember what not being in charge and not bearing the responsibility for hundreds of lives felt like. What angered her most was that at home, she wasn't a fierce and mighty queen, just another Armstrong sister, a cute little doll that seemed to amuse everyone. In Central City she was just another high-ranked officer (and now she wasn't even that much). It was maddening.

And despite Olivier's best efforts, there didn't seem to be anything she could do to change that. It wasn't like she could punish her family the way she punished her soldiers. Even yelling and threatening with her sword didn't have much effect. Olivier sighed. She suddenly felt very old. She couldn't remember how on earth she had grown up here among all this craziness. Maybe it had been easier then.

She became bored with the toothpicks and set them aside. Her tummy growled and she remembered she hadn't had breakfast that morning and her dinner from last night had gone out the wrong way. She lifted her shirt just a tad. Now she was positive it wasn't her imagination, there was _definitely _a bump there. A very tiny one, but a bump nonetheless. She touched it. It didn't feel any different from the rest of her, and of course she still felt nothing from within. She probably would soon, seeing as now there were _two _babies floating around in there.

Her stomach growled again and she reluctantly got up and stretched, wondering what she should eat. She was about to leave when she noticed a dark figure standing in the backyard. She leaned over the railing and saw that it was Buccaneer, standing alone and admiring the view. She smiled. One of the reasons they usually got on so well was because he had the same appreciation for nature that she did. She moved downstairs quickly and joined him outside, soaking in the sun and admiring the way it sparkled on the pool.

"You must have had your work cut out for you to get away from my sister."

He groaned. "I don't know why she's so stuck on me. Or am I really that good looking?" he asked, turning to her. She raised an eyebrow. His tone was joking, but also held a trace of hopefulness.

"I've seen better," she told him bluntly. He growled and she smirked. "I can just see it now. Catherine Armstrong and Buccaneer. How romantic."

"It's never going to happen, she's way too young," he insisted. "And lay off about my name."

Something occurred to Olivier and she turned to him. "You never told me what your first name was."

He stiffened. "Yeah I did. Buccaneer."

"No," Olivier said slowly, clucking her tongue. "You said that was what everyone called you. Not that it was your name. It seems hard to believe any sensible parent would name their kid Buccaneer Buccaneer."

Buccaneer coughed and cleared his throat. It's no big deal. Just call me Buccaneer."

Olivier grinned. "Why are you avoiding telling me your first name?"

He tensed. He knew that grin. It was pure evil. "I'm not avoiding it," he lied.

"Then what is it?"

"Why do you want to know?"

"The fact that you're refusing to tell me by answering my question with another question suggests that your name must be embarrassing. Is that it?"

"No! I just don't prefer it. I, uh, I was named after someone I don't like."

Olivier shook her head, her grin widening. A giggle escaped her. "You're digging your own grave, Pinocchio. I saw your eye twitch."

"_Again?"_ he roared, stomping his foot. "Dag nab it! I was so sure I wasn't doing it this time!" Buccaneer's one crucial weakness was that no matter how hard he tried, he could _not _tell a lie. Ever.

It had become a huge source of amusement for everyone at Briggs, especially Olivier. They occasionally called him Pinocchio because whenever he told a lie, he would involuntarily make some sort of physical movement that made it obvious. A twitch of his eye, a quirk of his lips, a nervous smile, or he'd twitch his nose like a rabbit. None of these things were on purpose of course, and it seemed he could never control them even when he made a conscious effort not to do them. In some ways it was useful because it meant he could never lie to his commander, but it got to the point to where he was never filled in on the details of missions until the very last minute, because if an enemy somehow got hold of him there'd be no way for him to bluff.

"You should know by now that you _can't _lie," Olivier reminded him. He wanted to wipe that smile off her face. "You always give yourself away."

"Shut up."

"Tell me your name."

"No." He folded his arms and glared. She couldn't make him tell her, not anymore.

"You know I can find out if I want to. It would take one phone call."

"Headquarters won't talk to you."

"Hawkeye owes me a favor. I'm sure she'll be more than happy to look up your records for me." She folded her arms, mocking his stance. "You can either tell me now or I'll find out for myself."

"Why do you wanna know so bad? It's not important."

"Because you're refusing to tell me, and that _is _important. And you can never know too much."

Buccaneer heaved a huge sigh. He held up his hands in defeat. Clearly there was no way around it. "Alright, I'll tell you my name. But you have to _swear _you won't tell anyone else."

The evil grin returned. "So it _is _embarrassing then?"

"Some people think so. Maybe just a little bit." He wrinkled his nose before he could stop himself. _Drat. _"Just please promise me?"

Olivier nodded. "Fine."

"Alright. As long as you don't tell anyone." He did a quick glance around the yard to make sure no one else was around, then leaned in close to her so he was practically whispering. "My first name is…Angel." He winced and recoiled, waiting for her to laugh.

He didn't have to wait long.

It started with a giggle. "No it's not. Come on, tell me your real name."

"That is my real name. Angel Q. Buccaneer."

"Q?"

"Yeah. It doesn't stand for anything, it's just a Q. Ask my mother, I have no idea."

Another giggle. "_Your_ name is Angel?"

"Look I don't care what anyone says, it is _not _a girl's name! It can go either way!" His explanation fell on deaf ears. Olivier was ignoring him, shaking her head. The giggles had evolved into full-on laughs by now, which only increased as he protested.

"Your name is _Angel_? That's got to be the most ironic thing I've ever heard!" she jeered between laughs. "The bear of Briggs, the fierce mountain monster, the huge captain everyone's afraid of who crushes Drachmans with his bare hands, and his name is _Angel_?" She doubled over, laughing so hard her face turned a light pink. If it hadn't been at his expense he would have enjoyed the sight; she had a pretty laugh.

"It's not like I had a choice!" he yelled. "I sure as hell didn't choose it!"

Olivier was _still _laughing, covering her mouth with one hand and holding her side with the other. "Angel!" she said, and burst into a fit again.

"It's not that funny," he grumbled. His own face was beginning to turn red. He had never seen her laugh like this before. If someone who didn't know her were to watch her now, they might have confused her with the peppy cheerleader type from the way she was acting.

She finally straightened up and caught her breath, her cheeks still flushed. "Wait until Major Miles hears about this!"

"You can't! You swore you wouldn't tell anyone!"

"That was before I knew your name was Angel. Miles will have a field day with this one."

He saw red. "You liar!"

Olivier shrugged. "Call me what you will, this is too good not to take advantage of."

"You wouldn't. Come on Olivier, the major would never let me hear the end of it."

"I know." Olivier's evil grin was so wide you could have driven a tank over it.

"I won't let you." He jabbed a metal finger at her. "I'm warning you, if you tell him I'll make you regret it."

She bit her lip. "I highly doubt that."

"Why?"

"Because you're too much of an _Angel _to do anything bad!" And there went the laughing again. Buccaneer clenched his fists. _This _was why he hadn't wanted her to know his name. It was just like her to use it against him.

"Stop laughing!" he shouted, which of course made her laugh harder. She doubled over again, eyes closed, holding her cheeks and attempting to control herself.

An idea instantly dawned on him. He would teach her to laugh at him.

"I can't wait to see the look on Miles's face when he hears your name is- hey!" Before she could insult him again, he had bent down and slung her over his shoulder. Her hair rained down over her face so she could barely see where he was marching off with her. "What are you doing? Put me down!"

He smiled smugly, the return of her angry voice was satisfying. "No one makes fun of me and gets away with it. When you made the mistake of laughing at me, you let your guard down. And now you're gonna pay."

"I said put me down!" She started to kick, but he solved that problem by wrapping an arm around her knees and pressing them to his chest tightly. She squirmed, but he had a strong grip. Olivier was forced to resort to pounding his back with her fists like a child, not that it did much other than make her look stupid. The blood rushed to her head and she looked up to see the mansion retreating from them. "Where are you taking me?"

"Where all the bad little girls go," he replied sarcastically.

"How do you even _know _where you're going?"

"You housed all the men here once, remember? It didn't take long for me to learn my way around. And it's all thanks to you." Just to add insult to injury, he pinched her butt, knowing it would enrage her. The few men who had tried to touch her there hadn't lived to see the next day.

Enrage her it did. "If you don't put me down _right now_-"

He stopped. "Alright, alright. Hold still and I'll let you go."

Surprised he'd actually listened, Olivier calmed down a bit and stopped moving. True to his word, his hands moved to her waist and he gently lowered her.

Or at least, he started to. Just before her feet touched the ground, he tightened his grip on her waist, swung his body around, and just as Olivier realized what he was doing and opened her mouth to scream, he had tossed her into the middle of the pool, where she landed with a loud splash. She wasn't hurt, but when she pushed herself to the surface, completely soaked through and blinded with rage, he had already turned and run.

"GET BACK HERE RIGHT NOW! I'LL KILL YOU!"

He knew Olivier would have to swim to the side of the very, very wide pool (which was precisely why he'd thrown her into the middle of it), climb out and catch up to him before she could follow through on that, so he wasn't too worried. He sprinted into the mansion and ducked behind a bookshelf, grinning nervously when he heard her kick the door open.

"WHERE ARE YOU?" He had to cover his mouth to keep from laughing. Whenever she was this mad she would always scream everything she said, and he found it comical.

"Olivier! What on earth are you doing all soaking wet?" That sounded like her mother, but he couldn't be sure. All the Armstrongs sounded mostly the same to him.

"BECAUSE MY IDIOTIC SUBORDINATE THREW ME IN THE POOL, THAT'S WHY!"

"Not so loud! Use your indoor voice, dear."

"_Where _is he?" she snarled. "I'll kill him! I'll rip his head right off his shoulders-"

"Not in those wet clothes you won't! You'll ruin the good carpet and catch a cold. At least get changed into dry clothes before you kill someone." Buccaneer blinked. How was Josephine so _calm _all the time?

"And let him get away? Hell no! He's going to _pay_. As soon as I find him he's dead."

Buccaneer's eyes shifted nervously. He was beginning to regret hiding here; it didn't give him much chance of escape if she found him, which she undoubtedly would. And it must have been one of the few places the maids didn't bother with because it was covered in dust.

Josephine sighed. "Whatever you say, dear. Just don't walk on the carpet until you're dry."

A speck of dust drifted into Buccaneer's nose and without warning, he sneezed. _Oh no._

"Aha! Now you're gonna get it- hey! Mother!"

"Olivier, I refuse to let you ruin that carpet!"

"Put me down!" Olivier screeched. Buccaneer carefully moved away from the bookshelf and giggled at the sight of his general in her mother's arms, kicking and shivering (that water had been cold). He was impressed Josephine could lift her, but then she _was_ an Armstrong. And she was so tall that Olivier didn't stand much chance of getting away.

"I think you need some time to calm down. And a hot bath. Let's go dry you off."

"Mother, for God's sake I'm not a child! Put. Me. Down!"

"You're not a child, but I am still your mother. I told you not to run on the carpet until you were dry, and you completely disobeyed me. Now I am forced to resort to more drastic measures."

Buccaneer cracked up and Josephine winked at him with a grin of her own. Her patronizing isn't-little-Olive-cute-when-she's-furious tone was the perfect cherry on top of the sundae of Olivier humiliation.

Olivier turned in her mother's arms and pointed a finger at Buccaneer. "I'll get you for this! Mark my words! I'll make you wish you'd never been born, Buccaneer!"

"Yeah, yeah," he said snidely as the two women disappeared into another room. He might have made her hate him, but he had still won the battle.

Because she sure as hell wasn't calling him Angel anymore.

**Olivier's mommy loves to mess with her as a sort of revenge for the way she generally treats her family. ;) I totally see her acting like this because when her children fight and tear up the house, there is NO reaction and she is still perfectly calm. XD**

**Thank you for reviewing Mustang's Inferno, Shadow's Interceptor, Beth of Liz, Guest, and OF COURSE jesselover33! I miss you so much and can't wait to see you so we can rant about stuff together!**

**Also I think I might start a list of people who favorite/follow/read this story and DON'T review. See if it'll spur some motivation.**


	14. Chapter 14

**I'm still alive! *Raises hand weakly* I wanted to write a chapter on Olivier dreaming along with some baby brother bonding time. Here goes nothing:**

Olivier had never been much of a dreamer, at least not while she slept. When she'd first joined the military, she had attempted to adhere to a strict schedule, going to bed at the same time every night and waking up at the same time every morning without fail to keep her body in top-notch condition. For a while it had worked and she'd felt an astounding difference, but then she was promoted to brigadier general and transferred to Briggs, where being a soldier was a 24/7 job instead of a nine-to-five job like it was in Central.

It was impossible to have a routine at Briggs, and she soon had to abandon her ritual and often went to bed and woke up at a different time every day and night. At first this wreaked havoc on her body. She would stumble around in a daze with a heavy head and a film over her eyes, barely able to see straight or speak above a mumble and next to no reading ability. In those days Olivier would close her eyes for only a minute, and then wake up three hours later with her head on her desk and an embarrassing puddle of saliva on her paperwork.

But after about a month of no sleep, her body finally adapted and she began to feel more like her old self again. When her head hit the pillow, her body seemed to power itself off and she would be completely unconscious until her alarm went off a couple of hours later. No dreams, no night terrors like other soldiers had, nothing. This was precisely why she was so shaken when she woke up very suddenly late that night after an incredibly weird dream.

Olivier sat up in her bed, dressed only in a soft, comfortable T-shirt and loose sleep shorts. Her bedhead was such that she could tell she would look like a wreck in the morning, and her arms had the imprint of her mattress on them, indicating a lot of tossing and turning.

"Where the hell did that come from?" she murmured, playing with one of her curls. "And why couldn't I tell it was a dream?" That disturbed her more than anything. In dreams, people didn't question what happened to them, even when it involved the supernatural or impossible. It was like a part of the brain just stopped functioning in a dream. She had never believed any of that dribble about dreams being signs of what was to come or what was buried deep beneath the subconscious, but now she wondered if maybe she ought to research it a bit more.

Olivier sighed and got up. There was no way she would fall back asleep tonight. She was always thirsty whenever she first woke up, so she grabbed a cold bottle of water out of the mini fridge that was kept stocked in her room (a standard utility for all bedrooms), took a long gulp, and picked up the hairbrush lying on her dresser. It always helped to have something to occupy her hands whenever she needed to think. Olivier opened the doors to the balcony and settled herself in the chair she'd sat in earlier, running the brush through her hair and wincing at some of the more tangled parts. Her bright blues looked up at the thumbnail-shaped moon, which was small and looked unusually sharp tonight.

_Olivier and Riza had been back in Dr. Dodo's office, only this time it wasn't just them. Her entire family was somehow squeezed into that tiny office, and Buccaneer and Mustang were there too. All ten of them formed a circle around her, towering over her and closing her in. Every single person was staring at her without blinking, and their smiles were eerily huge. Their faces were practically swallowed up by their eyes and grins, and it was so unnerving that it made her clutch the arms of the chair she was in._

_"Why are you all looking at me like that?" Olivier asked, her eyes shifting from one to another. Everyone around her was standing at attention and looked like a freaking robot. She was beginning to wish someone would cough or sneeze or at least blink._

_"You're an angel, Olivier," Riza's voice was unnaturally high and giddy sounding._

_"Yeah, what would we do without you?" For some reason Roy's voice reminded her of a show she'd heard on the radio once about an extremely demented doll that came to life and murdered children. He sounded almost exactly like it._

_"I have an idea! Let's all show her the great bear hug that has been passed down the Armstrong line for generations!" Alex's voice was normal, but it still had a strange tone to it, like he had something more sinister in mind than just a hug._

_"No!" Olivier reached beside her for her sword, a force of habit, but her hand grasped a very long banana instead. For some reason this, like everything else, made perfect sense in the dream._

_"Silly Olive," Amue patted her head. "That's not gonna hurt anyone."_

_"Now be a good little girl while I do the ultrasound." Dr. Dodo was by far the freakiest of the bunch. His orange curls were much crazier, and he looked like a mad scientist, resembling some of the political cartoons satirists had drawn of state alchemists. "Don't worry, you might feel a little pressure, but no pain. Hold still now."_

_Olivier had no choice but to sit there while he reached into a black bag at his feet and withdrew what looked like an enormous tube of icing that was at least twice the size of the bag it came from. "Choo-choo! Into the tunnel!" he exclaimed as he gave the tube a squeeze, and a waterfall of ultrasound gel gushed out._

_Olivier tried to move, but several pairs of arms held her down and lifted her shirt up. When the gel hit, it was so freezing it burned, making her yelp. A gloved hand clapped over her mouth and Olivier whimpered as the mountainous pile of gel shook, then liquefied and seeped into her belly, making her shiver. Everybody leaned in, crowding her so much they blocked her vision and it became hard to breathe. Hands, one of them metal, poked and prodded her and after a moment, the gel inside her warmed, comforting her a bit._

_She felt the scanner move slowly over her belly and could hear Dr. Dodo mumbling, though she couldn't quite make out what he was saying._

_Everybody stood back, their expressions even more joyful if that was possible. Olivier tried to pull her shirt down, but it wouldn't move. No matter how she tugged, the shirt stayed pushed up. She had never felt so helpless. When she woke up, Olivier would ponder over and over the question of why the hell she didn't just get out of the chair, put a boot in their throats, and leave. That was what made dreams so strange. People didn't act as they normally would, which made no sense to her._

_"Congratulations, Olivier," Dr. Dodo said slowly. "You're having Roy and Riza's baby." Immediately after the words left his mouth, Olivier's stomach grew right before her very eyes, causing her jeans to burst open._

_"Imma daddy, general!" Roy slurred. He reached down and squeezed her breast, another thing she never would have permitted in real life. "And it's all thanks to you!"_

_"She's the best!"_

_"That's my girl!"_

_"It's so sweet of you to do that for them!"_

_Olivier stared at her bulging belly, wide eyed. She gingerly moved her hand to touch it, but Josephine slapped her hand away. "Absolutely not. Olivier Mira, I will not have you harming a precious gift from above. Now you lie still and don't move until it's born."_

_"Don't worry," Strongine added. "It's only nine years. It'll be over before you know it!"_

_"Everyone!" Dr. Dodo shouted, and every head snapped toward him. "I have an announcement to make: she's having twins!"_

_Olivier let out a small scream when her stomach doubled in size in about two seconds. She could barely see over it, and her sides had widened a tad. Everyone else cheered._

_"Oh, twins are so adorable!"_

_"How lucky!"_

_Dr. Dodo slapped his forehead. "Oh, what am I saying? Of course she's having triplets!" Olivier's stomach had barely finished expanding before he said, "Quadruplets! Quintuplets!" Everyone else in the room joined him, cheering in song. "Sextuplets! Septuplets! Octuplets! Nonuplets! Decaplets! Undecaplets! Duodecaplets!"_

_Olivier screamed as her body morphed at a dizzying rate. The chair underneath her broke as her stomach swelled both vertically and horizontally, swallowing up her arms and legs. When it touched the ceiling, she heard a loud Pop! And then for some very, very strange reason, fish had poured out of her. She couldn't get a good look at them, but they were huge and all of them glared at her. They flopped around the office as her family danced around, oblivious. The next thing she knew, her body was back to normal, but the fish were pouncing on her, and the moment they touched her, they turned into babies. She tried to crawl away, but there were too many, and before long they weighed her down so much that the floor beneath her gave way and she fell into darkness._

That was when she had woken up with a start. Olivier sighed quietly and set the hairbrush aside. She hugged her knees, wishing she had thought to grab a blanket, though it was warm out tonight in the summer. No matter how much she pondered over it, the dream made no sense to her.

Still wide awake, Olivier got up and retreated into her room, carefully shutting the balcony doors behind her. She left and silently shuffled barefoot down the hallway. The nice thing about staying in the Armstrong mansion was that it held a place she could go when she needed to relax and clear her mind.

* * *

The Jacuzzi was luxuriously warm, and as Olivier stretched out under the eruption of bubbles, she found it much easier to close her eyes and let go. She was completely naked since she hadn't wanted to go to the trouble of hunting for a swimsuit, but it wasn't like she had to worry about anyone seeing her at this time of night. When she'd entered the spa, the lights had all been off and not even a servant had been around; they would all be in bed by now since breakfast wasn't for another several hours. Thankfully she knew how to operate the tub herself, and had turned it to a toasty 102 degrees. She leaned her head back against the water pillow and closed her eyes.

_Bang!_ A door slammed somewhere not far off. Olivier didn't even open her eyes. _Probably just a servant, _she thought drowsily.

A moment later her eyes snapped open.

_Wait a minute. The servants are all asleep._

Olivier tensed. Then who made that noise? Was it possible someone else who lived here couldn't sleep either? Or something else?

"Don't act hastily," she said to herself. "It's probably nothing."_ Maybe there are some servants who work at this time and I've just never known about it. Maybe there are some who sleep during the day and work at night. Or it could just be Father indulging a midnight craving. He does that sort of thing all the time._

The Armstrong mansion had the highest quality security. There was no way anyone could get in. Though there had been that one time with that Yoki person…but still, her sisters had made sure he wouldn't dare try it again. No else had ever successfully burglarized them…right?

Olivier gasped. Now she knew she heard footsteps. And they were close. They sounded hurried. She started to sit up and groaned when a wave of dizziness swam through her head. She was starting to feel hot all over. _Maybe 102 degrees was too high_. The walls of the spa were slipping in and out of her vision. Olivier held her head with her hand.

"Okay…I need to get out," she moaned.

She stood up, which was an effort, and grasped the edge of the Jacuzzi for support. She glanced around quickly and looked at the bottom step of the Jacuzzi. "Where are my clothes?" she murmured, puzzled. "And those towels? Didn't I leave them right here?"

She did one more visual sweep of the spa, and a chill shot up her spine as she realized what was now apparent.

Her clothes were gone.

"Who's there?" she called, so dizzy she was starting to feel nauseous. "If this is a joke, it isn't funny! Come out and face me!" She attempted to cover herself with her hands, not sure if her demand was wise. She had foolishly left her pistol and sword in her room and she wasn't exactly decent or in the best physical condition at the moment.

A large shadow darted by the spa room door. Olivier moved lower into the water. "Who are-"

"SISTER!"

Olivier screamed as she whirled around only to be face-to-face with her brother, who immediately grabbed her around the waist and yanked her out of the tub with surprising swiftness, setting her on her feet directly in front of him.

"Alex, what the hell are you doing?" she yelled, her heart nearly exploding out of her chest. She hadn't even heard him come in. And now she was-

Olivier nearly screamed again as she remembered she was completely naked and standing in front of her little brother.

"GET _out_!" she yelled, slapping her hands over her lady parts. "What is _wrong_ with you?"

Alex put a finger over his mouth, looking ill at ease. "Quiet! You'll wake the whole house!"

"Alex, get out! NOW!"

"Alright, alright! Here are your clothes," he reached into the giant pocket of the pajama pants he had on and handed them to her. "I'll look away while you dress." He turned around. She snatched the clothes from him and fumed as she shoved them on. Wet spots appeared on the T-shirt as it stuck to her soaked skin.

"You'd better have a freaking good explanation, Alex, or I swear I'll slice you to pieces for what you just did! Why did you take my clothes and why did you just barge in on me like that and snatch me out of the hot tub? Did you not see that the lights were on? Did it not _once_ occur to you to _knock_?"

"I did knock. You didn't hear it." Alex's calm demeanor was only making her angrier.

Olivier crossed her arms and growled, barely resisting the urge to punch him square in the face. "Fine. Now explain the rest of it. And for your sake this had better be good."

"You were in danger, sister. I was only trying to rescue you."

"In danger from _what_?"

Alex returned her glare. "Are you honestly telling me you didn't know? It's extremely dangerous for a pregnant woman to be in a hot tub! At a hundred and two degrees? Olivier, what on earth were you thinking? When I peeked through the window, you looked like you were a moment away from passing out and drowning. Please forgive me for worrying about you." He said the last part with a hint of sarcasm.

Olivier was about to retort, but stopped for a moment. Was that true? Pregnant women couldn't bathe in hot tubs? That would explain the dizziness, which was still gripping her.

Still, that didn't excuse what Alex had done.

"Alex," Olivier snarled. "Are _you _honestly telling _me _that it never occurred to you that _maybe _you could have just come in here like a normal person and _told _me that instead of stealing my clothes and barging in on me like a crazy man? That _maybe _you could have allowed me the chance to get out of the water _by myself_?"

Alex put a finger to his chin. "Hmm. It does sound rather obvious when you put it that way."

"Agh! You idiot!" Olivier face palmed and pulled at her hair. "I cannot _believe _this!"

"Try to understand, Sister. I was afraid you wouldn't listen. Allow me to explain from the beginning. I heard someone in the hallway and it woke me up. When I saw that it was you, I went back to bed and figured since the noise wasn't anything suspicious, I'd try to go back to sleep. I tossed and turned for a few moments, but I was curious about where you were going at this time of night, so I got up and went to find you. I saw a light from down the hallway and followed it, then I heard the Jacuzzi turn on. When I arrived outside the door and looked in, I saw you slumped against the side of the tub. When I saw the thermostat outside the door, I panicked.

"I was afraid you'd shoot me if I tried to talk to you- you _have _been known to do that sort of thing before- so I merely came in, took your clothes so that you could dress, and made a hasty retreat so that I could come in through the back way and catch you off guard. When I did, you looked as though you were about to faint and needed rescuing quickly. That's why I came in the way I did. I wanted to make sure you wouldn't lose consciousness and I had to get you out of the Jacuzzi as quickly as possible."

"How the hell did I not hear you come in?" Olivier asked, a little panicky. "I should have heard you when you grabbed my clothes. You were right behind me!"

Alex shrugged. "I imagine my footsteps were muffled over the sound of the bubbles, and besides that I've become quite skilled at sneaking. I've done a few stealth operations for Central in my time," he declared proudly, sparkling.

Olivier's head began to pound and she closed her eyes. "I still think it's insane that you- oh no." She bent over and wrapped an arm around her belly as the dinner she'd enjoyed before she went to bed made a return trip. The pure white tiled floor of the spa room was stained an ugly shade of orange and her mouth tasted awful. "Great," she muttered before spitting out a little more. When she was finished, she slowly sat down and hung her head.

"Are you alright?" Alex asked.

"I'm still dizzy," she mumbled, closing her eyes.

She felt Alex pick her up, more gently this time, and walk out of the spa room. "Stop…I don't need your help," she protested weakly. The room was still spinning. "Let me go-"

"I'm just looking out for you, Sister," Alex assured her. "I'm sorry if I don't always do the best job of showing it. Just please promise me you won't go in the spa room again while you're carrying."

"Fine," Olivier said dismissively. She gave in and closed her eyes. Alex carried her back to her room and she was almost asleep by the time he gently set her on the bed and pulled the covers over her.

"I'm still mad at you," she told him sleepily. Though she had to admit, way deep down at the bottom of her heart, that she was impressed. No one else had ever been able to sneak up on her like that. Alex had a skill that not even the best of her bears possessed.

Alex chuckled. "I have no doubt of that." He kissed her cheek and for once she didn't object. "I'm going back to the spa room to clean up the mess, then I'll go back to bed myself. Sleep well."

And Olivier did sleep well, thankfully with no dreams this time. _He may not be entirely hopeless after all_, she thought as she slipped into a restful darkness.

**Some fun facts: **

**- As I'm sure you guessed, after triplets comes quadruplets, quintuplets, and so on all the way up to twelve babies. To date, the highest multiple birth ever recorded was a case of nonuplets (nine babies). Unfortunately none of them survived; multiple births higher than triplets are extremely dangerous for both the mother and the babies. There has been only one case of octuplets (eight babies) where all of them survived. Most of the time at least one or two of them doesn't make it. :( To be honest, when I first started brainstorming this story I had actually considered making Olivier have quads or quints or something like that, but then I decided that would be too cruel. Twins are more than enough! XP**

**- According to my research, it's very normal for expectant mothers to dream frequently during their pregnancies. The most common three things that pregnant women dream about are babies, falling, and fish. Doctors and psychologists have attributed the last one to the fact that babies swim in the womb like fish. The falling could be a sign of nervousness, fear or lack of confidence. **

**- It really is dangerous for pregnant women to bathe in hot tubs, especially when they're set to over a hundred degrees. I don't know all the scientific details, but apparently it messes with the hormones and causes the mother to become dizzy and faint if she's in there longer than ten minutes (which Olivier wasn't). **

**- Etaleah loves reviews. They help her sleep at night. She cherishes each review like it's her child, and she never forgets the reviewer's kindness. :)**


	15. Chapter 15

**I have to admit, this chapter started out as just being a form of therapy for me. Basically Olivier is me, Briggs is college, and Central is my hometown, which is where I'm stuck for a very long summer (almost four whole months!). **

Olivier was trapped in a vicious cycle of boredom, depression and self-loathing. Central was a terrible city; anything fun was expensive and a long drive away, you couldn't walk anywhere in Central and public transportation was so scarce it was practically nonexistent. The desire to go back to Briggs was so strong that it practically consumed her; it was all she could think about or talk about and she knew it was annoying her family. She didn't exactly blame them, after all, how could they be expected to act when she was making it clear they weren't wanted? But she couldn't help it; the long year ahead of her seemed endless and she felt trapped. Every single member of her family was home every single day. They wanted to spend time with her every single day. Since this wasn't exactly her house, she couldn't stop them from coming into her room or making noise.

And there was always noise. The radio, someone on the phone, people coming and going, people playing music. It wasn't like Briggs had been quiet, but still it was a better kind of noise. It was background kind of routine sound that blended harmoniously and was easier to tune out. This was loud and boisterous and could be heard in every corner of the house. Olivier got out as much as she could, but her father and Catherine had a tendency to monopolize the drivers and Alex had to take a car to work every day. Which left Olivier stuck at home most days and it was making her stir crazy. Her mother nagged about everything under the sun, from leaving doors open to leaving lights on to not eating the right way to wearing the wrong clothes. It was making her angry and she was taking that out on her family and she hated herself for it because they were just being themselves.

Briggs was a twenty-four hour facility. Anything she wanted to do, she could do it at any time of the day or night. The gym, the library, the archive room, the mess hall, the small but growing break room where soldiers kept a movie projector and a couple of films (as well as some dirty magazines they thought she didn't know about). Central City facilities closed at early hours and several times a week they were closed the entire day. And of course, at Briggs everything was free and within walking distance. She never had to worry about carrying the right amount of money or securing a car. She never even had to think about letting her family know where she was going or being home by a certain time. Doing so made her feel like a child again, almost like she'd never left home at all.

Summer was boring and long and hot; it had always been her least favorite time of the year because of the heat and humidity and bugs (in winter everything was dead, just the way she liked it). Central was boring and terribly laid out. Olivier couldn't exercise in her state, and it was causing her to lose energy. Losing energy made her want to sleep more, which made her nap, which in turn not only labeled her as a lazy bum but also made it harder to sleep at night. That only added to her crankiness.

Ergo, she was already not in the best of moods when Alex approached her yet again about practicing for the concert and choosing songs. The morning sickness had been vicious that day, and she was starting to feel heartburn as well. And she was still sore about what had happened in the spa.

"I was thinking that we could try a duet," he offered. "It's been years since we've done so, but our voices sound magnificent together!"

"I wasn't planning on anything special," Olivier said, glowering at him from her bed. After she had laid it into him about knocking first, Alex developed this irritating habit of knocking _and then_ barging in without waiting for her to say whether it was all right for him to enter. There was barely a difference. "I'm just doing a few Ishvalan songs with the five of us." Olivier found comfort in Ishvalan music because it was meant to be sung collectively by a large group, and she hoped her voice would get lost in the crowd, making it harder for people to realize just how good she really was.

"But Sister, I found the perfect song for us! We wouldn't even have to venture out of our ranges. Remember the song titled "Games of Danger" from that musical we saw as children?"

"What?" Olivier bolted up. "Alex, you dunderhead! The woman in that song has to dress up like a prostitute, get felt up by a murderer who acts as though he's in love with her, and pretend she likes it!"

"That's called acting, Sister!" Alex sparkled. "I admit it's written more for tenors, but I've been practicing and I don't see any trouble-"

"No."

"But why-"

"No."

"Just give-"

"No. No. No." She remembered the choreography for that song all too well. The thought of Alex running his hands down her body like that, even though it was only pretending, made her skin crawl.

Alex threw up his hands in the air and shook his head. "I suppose it was worth a try." He started to head for the door when the phone rang. "I'll get it!" He shouted to everyone and no one, then hurried toward the sound. Olivier followed him. It was only a matter of time before her sisters started bothering her too, and she needed to take her mind off how much she hated life at the moment.

Alex dashed downstairs, which made the house shake a little bit, and grabbed the phone off the wall. Normally it was the servants' job to answer the phone, but apparently something had been going on at Central Command involving the hire of new subordinates to replace Maria Ross and Denny Brosch (who were currently on their honeymoon) that had people calling Alex left and right even when he wasn't working, so he spared them the trouble. "Armstrong residence?" He relaxed a bit. "Ah, hello Captain Buccaneer."

Olivier paused on the steps. She hadn't spoken to Buccaneer since the incident at the pool, which she was still pissed about. Every time she thought about it, her anger was freshly boiled.

"No, Olivier hasn't gone anywhere. Yes, we'll keep you posted as to her whereabouts." Olivier rolled her eyes. "Hmm? Pardon me, but what was that about Major Miles?"

Olivier stiffened. Why would Buccaneer be talking about Miles? Unless…she ran down the rest of the staircase. "Let me talk to him, Alex!"

"Sister, please, I'm on the phone!" Alex pushed her away. "I'll gladly hand it over when I'm finished."

Olivier started to argue, then had a better idea. She turned around and sprinted back up the stairs. This place had telephones everywhere, and they were all on the same line. She moved down one hallway, then another, until she found the communications room (it was where the radio and similar pieces of technology were kept) and grabbed the receiver off the hook.

"Yeah, when I told him about it, the major said he wouldn't miss this concert for anything. In fact, he's even bringing a couple of our closer subordinates from Briggs with him! At this rate it's almost like the whole fort will be there to hear General Armstrong sing." The smugness in Buccaneer's voice was not lost on Olivier, but before she could think of something sharp to reply with, Alex spoke.

"Indeed, Captain! But come now, are you sure you can't perform with us? The more the merrier, especially since it seems you and Olivier are stuck with each other anyway."

Olivier's eyes widened as she heard what sounded like a shudder from Buccaneer. "Oh no way, Major. Not me. I can't sing to save my life, and I'm so ungraceful my dancing's just as bad." He laughed a little. "I mean, come on, how can you dance with automail? If it were me on stage in front of hundreds of people from the military and a bunch of Briggs bears, I think I'd die of embarrassment. I can give commands just fine, but between you and me, I've always had kind of a bad case of stage fright when it comes to actually performing."

A smile grew on Olivier's face. It was all she could do to keep from laughing. This was just too perfect.

"Ah, yes, perfectly understandable," Alex assured him. "We look forward to your arrival as well as that of Major Miles and the rest. This concert is looking more and more promising everyday. Why, I believe my mother is just now sending out the invitations-"

Olivier dropped the phone and bolted down the hall.

"Mother!" She called, sprinting as fast as she could toward the entrance of the mansion. "Mother!"

"Whoa, slow down, my girl!" Philip bellowed after her from his office. He wheeled his chair into the hallway. "Where on earth are you off to in such a hurry?"

"I can't talk now, Father! Where's Mother? I need to find her right away, it's important."

"Last I heard, she just finished up the invitations and handed them off to one of the errand boys to mail-"

"Where is this errand boy?"

"Er, he's probably just left- wait!" But Olivier had already taken off. Her feet pounded down the stairs as fast as they would go. She was careful to avoid being spotted by Alex in the foyer, then burst through the doors to the mansion. A man carrying a large box was just passing the fountain in their front yard.

"Wait! Stop!" Olivier yelled, sprinting after him. This was the most activity she'd done in over a month, and while it probably wasn't good for her, it felt great. The feeling of her heart slamming hard against her chest and her hair flying around her face was something she'd missed. She was breathing heavily as she began to catch up to the man, who had halted in puzzlement.

"Madame Olivier! What's wrong, ma'am?" he asked, concerned.

Olivier hunched over and held up her index finger, indicating she needed a moment to catch her breath. She nodded to the box. "Are those the invitations for the concert?"

"Yes, ma'am. I was just on my way to mail them."

"Don't." Olivier held out her arms. "Give them to me."

He hesitated. "Ma'am-"

"Don't worry, I just need to correct them. My mother doesn't know this, but I realized that there was a mistake made on the invitations, and I need to fix it right away. After that's done, I promise I'll get them back to you."

"A mistake, ma'am?"

"Yes. She put the wrong date on them." Olivier hoped this man hadn't seen the invitations before they'd been put into the box, but her mother tended to work with mostly female servants for this type of thing. She gave him a warning look. "I need them back at once."

"I understand ma'am. It's just- Lady Armstrong gave me strict orders not to let this box out of my sight until I'd gotten it to the post-"

"Do you value your balls?"

"My what?" He seemed a little flustered. _Must be fairly new to the job._

"Balls. Boys. Testicles. Whatever you call them, they won't be attached to you for very long if you don't give me that box."

He must have seen the glint in her eyes, because he set the box down and backed off without a word. Olivier snatched it up, then grunted. It was heavier than she expected. "How many of these freaking things are in here?"

"About five hundred, ma'am."

"Wha- _five hundred_?" Olivier gaped. She shook her head, recovering swiftly. Whatever. She could have words with her family about that later. Right now she had something to do. She left the man standing there awkwardly and lugged the box toward the side of the house. There was a little-used entrance that hardly anyone used, which was good for when she wanted to get into the house without being seen. She slipped through that door, which opened into an area that was more or less used for storage, and headed for the letter-writing room.

Yes. The letter-writing room. Her parents really did have way more rooms in this place than they knew what to do with.

Olivier ducked into the room, which was bare save for a desk, a chair, some writing supplies and some stationery, and set the box down on top of the desk. She locked the door and dropped into the chair, tearing the box open savagely. It didn't matter, she'd buy another box if she had to. She grabbed a handful of envelopes, starting with the ones that would be sent to her bears, and set to work. Olivier would have to re-do, re-address, and re-seal them herself, but the end result would be worth it. And besides, she only planned on doing that for the people she knew would actually come; the rest wouldn't miss their invitations. She highly doubted her parents even knew five hundred people, and there were certain members of her family that, if it were up to Olivier, wouldn't even be allowed to set foot into the country, much less her own home.

_You are cordially invited to attend a charity benefit concert supporting the aid of Ishval. _

_This concert will feature the Armstrong family heirs, better known as the Armstrong Five._

_Saturday August 4, 1916 at 7pm. _

_Armstrong Mansion, Central City, Central, Amestris. _

_General Admission $30 _

_All proceeds shall go toward aiding the people of Ishval. _

Olivier could barely contain her malicious excitement as she snatched up a pen and scribbled at the bottom of each invitation,

_Includes a musical performance by Fort Briggs captain Angel Q. Buccaneer. _

**Oh no she didn't! That'll teach him to throw her in the pool. ;) Thanks for all the reviews, they help more than you'll ever know. Admittedly I'm kinda stuck at this point, but I got a fresh burst of inspiration today. And the closer it gets to the first day of school, the more productive I'll be! **

**The song Alex proposes is based off of the song "Dangerous Game" from the musical Jekyll and Hyde, none of which I own.**


	16. Chapter 16

**Sorry this chapter jumps around so much, but it was necessary. And if I could have a moment of everybody's time, I just wanted to make one thing clear. **

**In my headcanon and in this story, Olivier isn't trying to be fuhrer. To be honest, I really don't think she'd want it. She'd have to live in Central and work with a bunch of idiots and have the press following her everywhere and I think she'd hate it. It's clear that she wants to achieve high ranking, would like to be recognized for her efforts, and generally hates Roy, yes, but that doesn't necessarily mean she wants to rule the country. (and besides that, a lot of people don't like Roy because he got promoted so young and is in the fuhrer's favor) Her wanting to be fuhrer is never even mentioned in the anime and the only time it's ever alluded to in the manga is in a section of the bonus comics, which generally aren't meant to be taken seriously (I can't see Olivier ever REALLY approving of a miniskirt government, especially since she'd be the one wearing it!). **

**I just thought people might wonder why Olivier isn't using her time off to get her campaign going. And the reason is, at least in my fics, that she doesn't want to campaign at all. I probably should have explained this in dialogue, but I couldn't think of a plausible way to do so. **

**One last thing: the dance teacher who appears in this chapter is a character from another anime series. Anyone who can guess what series I took him from gets a very big mental bear hug.**

Scar heard a funny noise emanating from one of the military tents and instinctively rushed toward it, the desert sun sending rivers of sweat down his back and face. He had been away from Ishval so long that he had forgotten how intense the summer heat could be, especially after spending so much time in the north. His sandals slapped against the hard, lifeless ground and he wiped his brow for the fiftieth time as he shoved the tent flap aside. He froze at the sight that greeted him.

Scar thought for sure that after thirty-five years of life, during which he had become a priest, lost everything but the clothes on his back in a massive genocide, killed a dozen people, spent years as a fugitive from the law, battled homunculi and a psychopathic killer to boot, and then turned everything around by saving the very country that hated him, he had seen everything. Surely by now, nothing could surprise him.

He was wrong.

Major Miles, who had barely cracked a smile since they'd arrived in Ishval- he'd gone through quite a grieving period when he realized how many Briggs men had been killed, for which Scar sympathized- was now curled up on the ground laughing hard. He pounded his fists against the dirt and tears streaked down his dusty face. His body shook, and every time he tried to bring himself under control, he'd burst out with a fresh round of laughter that left him speechless and unable to breathe. Scar noticed his shades were lying at an odd angle nearby, indicating that they'd probably fallen off when he collapsed out of sheer hilarity.

"Um…Miles?"

"H-h-his name is Angel!" Miles squawked, then rolled over as he entered another fit of hysteria. This was the first time Scar had ever heard him laugh, or show any kind of emotion at all for that matter, and he might have been happy for his friend if it hadn't struck him as so weird.

"Whose name is Angel?" Scar raised an eyebrow. That wasn't an Ishvalan name.

Miles raised his arm high, and Scar noticed he was holding what looked like a card. He took it and skimmed the elegant script. It wasn't until he got to the bottom that he realized what Miles was referring to. He recognized Olivier Armstrong's handwriting from when he'd watched her sign Miles's transfer papers; it was very distinct in his mind because he'd never seen anyone write in such bold flourishes. He had never met Captain Buccaneer, but he had seen pictures in newspapers and Miles's old albums. The thought of that fearsome man having such an ironic name was enough to make even him grin.

"Is he really going to perform on stage?" Scar asked disdainfully. As grateful as he was that the Armstrongs were doing this for Ishval, wild horses couldn't have made him consider showing up to it. Besides the fact that he was still currently wanted by the police and presumed to be a dead man, the thought of Major Armstrong singing and dancing was enough to make him cringe, and he couldn't imagine Buccaneer would look much better.

"I sure as hell hope so!" Miles answered cheerfully. Having finally managed to get himself under control, he stood up. Scar was slightly amazed at how much happier he looked. _Maybe a good laugh is what the people of this country need._

Miles sighed in content, fixing his disheveled hair. "I promise not to be gone long, but now I definitely cannot miss this concert. Even if it wasn't for Ishval's benefit, I'd pay double the admission price to see General Armstrong and Captain Buccaneer- make that Captain _Angel _Buccaneer-" he added with a smirk. "Make fools of themselves on stage. And now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go radio Briggs and tell _everyone _about this." He snickered again and ducked out of the tent, still laughing to himself. Scar didn't think it was _quite_ thatfunny, but then there wasn't much he did consider humorous. He was reluctant for Miles to leave, but it was only for a couple of days and he knew his red-eyed brother needed a break.

"You have fun with that," Scar remarked matter-of-factly.

* * *

Karley sighed, removing his headphones and putting his feet on the desk. General Armstrong wasn't there, after all. "It's just too quiet around here with all our best people gone."

"I know," Henschel grumbled. "Even Drachma seems to have disappeared off the radar. Not a spy in sight."

Karley was about to reply when the telephone rang. He grabbed it before Henschel could. "This is Karley. Hey Major! Good to hear from- what?" Henschel's pen stilled as he noticed the look on his comrade's face.

"Yeah, we heard about that concert too. Yeah, it sounds awesome, but it's not like we can go." He rolled his eyes, then stilled. "Wait. _What? _You mean the captain…" He was silent for a long time, and Henschel could hear what sounded like laughing on the other line.

After a time, Karley said goodbye and hung up. He turned away, but Henschel could see the watery grin making its way onto his face.

"What's so funny?" he asked gruffly. He widened his eyes when Karley immediately erupted into a hysterical fit of laughter, pounding his fist on the desk and covering his face with his hand.

"_What?_ Come on, let me in on the joke!" Henschel shook Karley hard. "What the hell is so funny?"

"Sorry! It's just-" He snorted and giggled again.

"Karley!"

"Okay, okay! You remember that Armstrong concert, right?"

"Yeah."

"And you know how the captain was sent down to be her bodyguard?"

"Get to the point."

"Well…" Karley glanced around quickly to make sure no one was eavesdropping, then whispered what Miles had just told him on the phone. Henschel laughed so hard he nearly bust a gut.

Karley put his headphones back on and fiddled with the radio dials. "Yes, Central Command? I'd like you to connect me to a master sergeant Fuery. Sure, I'll hold. Oh, there you are Fuery. Yeah, this is Karley from Briggs. I'd like to talk to you about setting up some recording equipment in the Armstrong mansion…"

* * *

"The Armstrongs are having a party? Why the hell wasn't I invited?" Roy demanded indignantly of his youngest subordinate.

Fuery shrugged sheepishly. "I guess General Armstrong didn't want you to come, sir. But the rest of the team is invited."

Roy smirked. "Huh. Well I'm coming alright. Olivier Armstrong and Captain Buccaneer singing and dancing? I wouldn't miss that for the world." He picked up the phone and dialed a number. "Riza? I'll need you to dust off your evening gown. We've got a party to crash."

* * *

"Hey, Winry! You remember that Buccaneer guy from Briggs? Yeah, that's the one. Well guess what his real name is?" Edward could hardly restrain himself from laughing as he told her. "Yeah, of course I'm going to the concert! I'll come back next week and we'll go together. Yeah. Seeya." He hung up and immediately picked up the phone again. "Hello? Yeah, I'm trying to reach a guest at your hotel. His name is Alphonse Elric. I'd like to leave a message for him about a certain party that we're both invited to…"

* * *

Izumi handed the invitation to Sig. "Well? What do you think? I personally would love to see that guy with the mohawk perform."

Sig squeezed her shoulders and smiled. "A night out with you sounds perfect. Let's go."

* * *

"Oh my goodness! Oh, this sounds like so much fun," Mrs. Bradley gushed. "What do you think, Selim? Would you like to go see a bunch of people sing and dance?"

"Yeah! That sounds like fun!" He squealed, jumping up and down.

Grumman chuckled. "It's a date then.

* * *

"Marvelous! Simply marvelous! How fabulously gay the scene looks!"

The Armstrong Five allowed themselves a smile as their cousin and long-time performance instructor Jesse- who was also fabulously gay, if he did say so himself- applauded them. His hair, which was cut shorter than most Armstrongs', was dyed blue and matched his tight, frilly outfit, the bows of which bounced as he jumped up and down. His skinny little body sparkled so brightly the effect was almost blinding, and his green eyes nearly matched it, they were so proud.

"Oh my darlings, you are a true work of art. Every one of you, simply brilliant!"

"Thank you," they chorused, adding a little sparkle of their own (except for Olivier, who merely waited for feedback). They'd been practicing all day and it was nice to be told they were finally looking good. Normally he preferred choreography that was much more challenging and physically demanding, but this time they were toning it down a bit for Olivier, which made her bristle with annoyance. She'd started out tapping behind her brother and sisters, content to let Catherine have the spotlight since she was clearly desperate for it, but he had insisted on having her front and center.

They had agreed to return as roles they'd played when they were younger: Olivier as the female lead, Alex as the man she was trying to throw herself on (which she only agreed to because in this song, all she had to do was sing and make goo-goo eyes at him from a distance), and her sisters as backup ensemble. And since she'd already done it once before, it was easier to pick up and remember, rather than trying to learn a whole new song.

**AN: Basically I'm having them do "Speed Test" from Thoroughly Modern Millie, Olivier playing Millie and Alex playing Trevor Graydon. If you aren't familiar with it, I highly recommend looking it up (preferably the Broadway version with Sutton Foster) and sooner rather than later, because you'll get more out of this chapter and possibly future chapters if you know what the song is like and what the scene is, otherwise some of this may be confusing. Forgive me, but I don't want to take up a lot of the chapter explaining it (though if you'd like, you can PM me and I'll gladly give you details). I can definitely picture Olivier and Alex doing this song because it's a battle of wits, and it involves quite a bit of tapping (I should know, I was in it!).**

**Also I'm making the assumption that Amestrians have typewriters. I figure they'd have to since they clearly don't have computers and deal with a lot of paperwork, plus it's set in the 1900s and the typewriter was invented sometime in the 1700s.**

"Now Olivier darling, your singing is flawless, but your acting needs some work," he said, wagging a finger. She made a face. If she hadn't had so much respect for the man (he'd won a few awards in his time and definitely knew his stuff), she might have been inclined to snap at him. "You don't seem like you're _in love _with him! I need you to be more flirty. Sweetheart, this is your dream guy!"

"Jesse, I have an abundance of phrases to choose from to describe my _brother_. 'Dream guy' is not one of them."

"Sweetheart, just _try_ not to look so sour when you talk about marrying him." Jesse stuck out his lower lip. "Come on, please? You sound so good and your dancing's just the right speed."

Olivier huffed. Catherine giggled and spoke in a syrupy-sweet tone. "The sooner you get this over with, the sooner you two can go on your honeymoon! And if you ask nicely, I'll sing at your wedding."

"Shut it!" Olivier told her. Catherine was letting the fact that Jesse had given her a solo go to her head, and frankly Olivier was tired of it. Just because she could sing higher didn't mean she could sing better, and though she came close at times, Catherine still couldn't sing as high as Amue, something Olivier loved to remind her about.

"Ladies, please, you're both fabulous!" Jesse chided them with a feminine flick of his wrist. "Now let's take it from the top just one more time, and then we'll call it a day."

The five of them nodded and moved back into position. Olivier sat at her desk and placed her fingers over the keys of the typewriter propped on top of it. When she looked up, she was still a little daunted at just how big the auditorium of the mansion was. It could easily seat over a thousand people (provided they weren't Armstrong-size). The stage felt higher than it probably was, and when the headlights were on, it was nearly impossible to see anything that was offstage, which was a mercy when performing. The audience mostly just resembled a black mass. Amue, Strongine and Catherine each sat down at their respective desks. Jesse had arranged it so that Catherine was between them because he said it gave the stage more balance, which made Catherine a little pressed for space.

Alex stood by the larger desk, fully costumed in his black suit. He was the only one who would be wearing fancy attire; the others were all playing it casual. Catherine wore a cute little dress that she had bought (at a high price, Olivier had no doubt) specifically for the concert, but the other girls were playing it simple with just comfortable black dress pants and blouses that they could easily move around in. They wouldn't be wearing costumes because they would be doing songs from all kinds of eras and cultures and didn't want to be bothered with changing after every number. They would, however, have to switch from character shoes to tap shoes quite a few times, and in Catherine's case, ballet shoes.

"A-one, two, three, four!" Jesse pointed to the orchestra, who had just shown up the other day, and they instantly started up. Olivier had noticed they looked incredibly bored and a little frustrated. She could understand why; it couldn't be easy with all the starting and stopping they did during practice, and Jesse was constantly asking them to scratch this part, add another, play the harmony, repeat the melody, etc. She could see the sheet music resting on their stands from where she was sitting, and it was barely readable for all the penciled-in notes scribbled everywhere.

Alex launched into a short monologue, then sang, his deep voice reverberating around the theater even without a microphone. He moved his hands dramatically, pacing the stage as he slowly raised his volume the farther he got into the song. Olivier had to give him credit, he looked like he was into it. He never struggled with finding the right facial expression like she did. She could remember movements (she was pretending to type what Alex was saying as he sang), but she had no idea how to make her face look the way it was supposed to. She glanced over at Jesse and noticed he was biting his nails. There had to be a way to make this work.

"How's my speed, Miss Dillmount?" Alex asked with a face that reminded her of Buccaneer when he was acting cocky. Without even thinking about it, she smirked and added a flirty tone, knowing that would always make Buccaneer blush and grumble.

"A little slow, perhaps."

"Ah," Alex nodded with a smug satisfaction. He continued singing at a faster pace, and Olivier studied him with Buccaneer in mind. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Jesse begin to smile and nod.

When he finished, Alex folded his arms and stood authoritatively over Olivier. "Now, read that back to me please." She noticed he stood with the same ramrod-like stance that commanding officers always used, particularly when they were offering a challenge. Olivier never backed down from a challenge.

"Certainly," she said, a satisfying memory whizzing through her mind of many a commander's mouth falling open when they realized the kind of soldier she was. "Dear Mr. Hudson." She gave the obligatory pause. "Colon."

The song was a little high for her, but if Alex could do it, then so could she, and she would do it faster. She read off her "letter" (really a blank piece of paper in her hands, on which Catherine had left a nasty note for her when she wasn't looking) the way she would a superior progress report. When the lyrics reached their peak, she again tried to think of Alex as Buccaneer and gave him a smug, daring smile.

"Nice!" Alex sounded like he meant it, even though that was technically part of the song. Olivier finished up her part nicely, her confidence boosted by the fact that Jesse hadn't interrupted them yet. The feeling didn't last long though, mostly because in her opinion the rest of the song was stupid and a little unnecessary. It was mostly just her repeating nonsensical phrases with the ensemble, and then going into a tap dance in which they pretended to type but were actually tapping instead. It was a difficult routine to learn, but she was sitting down for it, so it didn't take too much of a toll. Poor Amue and Strongine suffered the worst, because their feet were made more for stomping than tapping and their shoes didn't fit them too well.

"Bravo! That was amazing! You have blown me away!" Jesse clapped hard, shaking his head and wiping a tear from his fake eyelashes when they finished. "Olivier, that was so much better. I knew you could do it. Alex, you were right on the money too."

"How about me, Jesse? Did you see how great I was?" Catherine squealed, fluttering her eyelashes. "I had perfect pitch the entire time!" She tossed her hair and crossed her arms, giving off an air as though she'd actually done something important. "But if you ask me, Olivier still didn't quite hit the notes on that last part. Are you _sure _you don't want me to take over for her? I think she could use the help, and this music was written more for a _soprano _anyway."

It was taking everything in Olivier's power to stop herself from strangling her sister. She clenched her teeth and mentally counted to ten, longing for toothpicks.

"You seem to be forgetting that _nobody _asked you, Catherine," Strongine hissed.

"Honeys, you're _all_ fabulous. I couldn't ask for a better group to teach. I'll see you all at the same time tomorrow, so enjoy the rest of your day! Toodle-ooh!" He gathered up his notes and skipped out of the auditorium just as the servants were coming in to put away the props. Olivier felt a hand on her shoulder and tensed, looking up.

"That was truly magnificent, Sister," Alex rumbled, wiping a tear from his eye. "Such realism in character portrayal is such a rare sight to behold!"

"Hmph." Olivier offered him the tiniest of half-smiles. "Well, I can't exactly allow you to perform better than me. But don't delude yourself into thinking I like you in real life."

"Nevertheless I am so excited for this concert I can barely stand it!" Alex raised his arms and Olivier, Amue and Strongine hurried out of the auditorium as his shirt was ripped to bits and the sparkles surrounding their brother multiplied. Catherine stayed at his side, gazing at his muscles in awe.

"So what changed, Olivier?" Amue asked before Olivier could walk away.

"Yeah, what made you go from 'okay' to amazing?" Strongine said teasingly.

"Tch!" Olivier turned around, letting her hair flounce behind her. "It's not like it's that hard. Millie's just a pathetic little gold digger who pretends to be strong and independent when in fact she's so desperate that she feels she needs a man to complete her."

"And yet you play her so well!" Amue gushed. "You and Alex are going to steal the show." She clasped her hands. "I'm almost as excited as he is. This is going to be so much fun!"

Olivier heaved a sigh and sulked through the mansion, which had undergone a bit of a change now that it was getting closer to the date of the concert. Everyone seemed to be in a hurry and the atmosphere was flustered. Decorations were being put up everywhere and a vase of fresh roses was placed on every single surface (apparently this shindig was supposed to have a rose theme even though it was supposed to be about Ishval, which, naturally speaking, was about as far away from a rose garden as it got).So many aromas were wafting from the kitchen that it was making her head spin; she'd gotten sick again three times this past week. The poor servants were working their tailcoats off with all the cleaning and rearranging Josephine was making them do. Normally Olivier might have offered to help, but she knew so little about all things fancy that she'd inevitably make the place look worse. The one place where her abilities were useful was the garden, and it was so brutally hot out there that Olivier wouldn't have ventured into the yard if her life depended on it.

She wracked her brain, trying to think of something even remotely useful that she could do, but was interrupted by the doorbell. She waited for the butler to answer it, thinking it must be another somebody-or-other hired to help out with all the thousands of things that needed to be done, but the butler must have been as harried as everyone else. A sharp knock later and still no one answered. Olivier headed for the tall doors and pulled hard on the handle. She was a little surprised at how much effort was required, these things were heavy.

"Hey! You're just the person I wanted to see."

Olivier scowled at Buccaneer and folded her arms. "What do you want?"

He rubbed the back of his head awkwardly. "So you're still mad at me, huh?"

"Perhaps." The snow-capped mountains were warmer than Olivier's voice.

"Well, I'm sorry. If it helps, I brought a little something to make it up to you." He jerked his thumb behind him. "Thought maybe you could use a little fresh air. Since no one called me to accompany you anywhere, I figured you'd been cooped up in the house all week."

Olivier shrugged. "We've been preparing for the concert. What did you bring me?"

He beckoned her to follow him. "Come outside and I'll show you. I can't bring it into the mansion."

Olivier stepped out into the sunlight, noticing for the first time how weird it was to see Buccaneer out of uniform. Even when they went down to North City for the occasional drink, he was still bundled up in the military-issue black fur-lined coat. Now he stood in a white tank top and black pants, his braid hanging halfway down his back. She followed him down the walkway and stopped at the fountain, which was also decorated in roses.

"Here she is." Buccaneer gestured with his metal hand to the side of the fountain. Olivier raised an eyebrow when she saw a black and silver motorcycle propped up against it, the headlight glistening in the afternoon sunshine. "Isn't she something?"

"You brought me a motorcycle?" Olivier asked skeptically.

"No," he replied slowly. He stepped around it and reached down. "The motorcycle is mine. I brought _you_ a helmet." He grinned and held it out to her. "Remember last time we were in North City together? You told me you'd always wanted to ride one of these. I just recently started riding again for the first time in years, and I can tell you it's a hell of a lot better than being trapped inside a stuffy car or traipsing around in the heat." He put on his own helmet and mounted the motorcycle, patting the seat behind him. "Hop on."

Olivier's heart skipped a beat. She took the helmet and turned it around in her hands, trying not to show how excited that made her. She _had _always wanted to try riding a motorcycle ever since the first time she had seen one at four years old. It had been when motorcycles were first being developed, and she'd watched with her eyes and mouth in wide circles as riders sped around Central City faster even than cars. Olivier loved anything that went fast and had hoped that when she grew up she could ride in one of the military tanks her father told her stories about. She had watched the motorcycles and imagined what it would be like to go fast without being confined by walls and a roof and how much easier the controls must be since the machine wasn't nearly as bulky and had wanted to ride it _so _badly.

_"Mommy, can I ride one pleeeaase?"_

_"Absolutely not! Those things are accidents waiting to happen. There's no protection, Olivier! Think how dangerous it would be if the rider lost control and crashed." Josephine shook her head and muttered to herself about daredevil young folk who were looking to get themselves killed, stroking her very pregnant stomach. Olivier still couldn't tear her eyes off of those motorcycles, they looked like so much fun! Philip chuckled at the awe in her big blue eyes, picked his little girl up, and let her head rest on his shoulder so she could watch them a little longer as the family walked away._

_"Someday, my girl. Someday," he'd whispered in her ear when his wife wasn't looking._

Olivier smiled. It looked like someday was today. But that didn't mean she was going to drop her poker face. "I suppose I could overlook your pervious offense in light of this, assuming it will be a decent ride." Buccaneer grinned and revved up the engine as she slipped on her helmet. It was a cumbersome, heavy thing, but even she knew it would be foolish not to wear one. Her heart leaping out of her chest, she carefully maneuvered herself onto the seat behind Buccaneer. She hoped they wouldn't need to communicate too much; they were both wearing helmets that covered their mouths and the engine was loud.

"Put your arms around my waist and hang on tight, okay?" Buccaneer shouted in what sounded like quite a cheerful tone. Olivier grimaced a little as she realized how intimate they were going to look, and she narrowed her eyes, wondering if that was the real reason why he'd offered to take her on his motorcycle. But she wanted the ride more than she didn't want to hug him, so she scooted closer to him and hooked her arms around his stomach while settling her feet on the bars at the same time.

"Ready?" he called.

"Yes!" For the first time in God knew how long, Olivier was excited for something.

"Here we go!" Buccaneer's feet left the ground, the motorcycle roared to life, tilted a bit, and they were off. Olivier had underestimated how fast the bike was and she found herself hanging onto Buccaneer tighter than she'd planned. There was a strong breeze that day, and as Buccaneer floored it out of the Armstrong front yard (a straight shot for about a mile), it hit them both full force. Olivier was thankful Buccaneer wore his hair in a braid; otherwise it would have been directly in her face. Thankfully the helmet kept some of hers down, but the rest of it flared wildly every which way.

It was exhilarating. She smiled.

Once Buccaneer got away from the mansion, he had more obstacles to dodge, and there were a few times where the motorcycle tilted so far off to the side that Olivier instinctively clutched his shirt and shut her eyes tight, but Buccaneer seemed to know what he was doing. After he drove the two of them down several streets (and turning quite a few heads along the way), she began to get used to it. This was almost as much fun as she'd imagined it to be as a child. Cars were going to seem incredibly slow after this, and she wondered if she might not be able to talk him into doing this more often.

Buccaneer gripped the handles, slowing down more than he normally would to take turns. He had asked around to make sure it was okay for pregnant women to ride motorcycles and apparently it was as long as the driver was careful and the woman wasn't too far along yet. He took care to avoid any bumpy roads or places with high traffic, but, just to mess with her, he occasionally veered the bike sharply to the right or left, smirking when she tightened her grip. His stomach was doing flip-flops at the feeling of her so close to him. He wondered if people would recognize them outside of uniform and with helmets covering their faces. A part of him hoped so and a part of him didn't. He loved having her all to himself.

"Hang on! Here comes the grand finale!" he yelled, turning down a side street. He had set up a ramp outside of his apartment building and he hoped it was still there. Buccaneer intended to show his queen a good time and that simply couldn't be done without at least one little stunt. A minute later, the ramp was still there, with nobody around.

_Perfect._

Olivier held back a scream of delight and apprehension as she saw what he was heading for at top speed. She bit her lip and willed herself to trust him. The sounds of the motorcycle echoed in her ears and Buccaneer let out a whoop as he drove faster, faster, up, and up…

Olivier couldn't hold back a small yelp as suddenly they were airborne. In all seriousness, they weren't _that _high, but the same thrill she got from driving a tank down a mountain at eighty miles an hour surged through her entire body and her heart was pounding so hard it was making her chest hurt. She forced herself to keep her eyes open as Buccaneer expertly got them down onto the second ramp, curved, and on the road again.

"That was awesome!" he cheered, coming to a stop near a restaurant. He parked the motorcycle, turned off the ignition, and removed his helmet. Olivier let go of him and he turned to face her. "I would take you farther, but I want to make sure I have enough gas to get you home. But if you'd allow me, I'll buy you dinner."

Now that her helmet was off, Olivier could see Buccaneer's smile. It wasn't his normal goofy grin or smirk, but a nice, honest smile. It was, well for lack of a better word, nice. And it seemed to make his face ten times more attractive. She studied him for a moment. _I never noticed this, but he's actually not bad-looking._

Not that she was interested. Because she could never think of Buccaneer like that. Nope. Not at all. He was her subordinate and maybe-kinda-sorta-just-a-little-bit her friend. But that was it! Nothing more.

But still it didn't mean she couldn't have dinner with him. Olivier glanced up at the restaurant. It was the kind of place that used candlelight, but that didn't mean anything. It was just a casual dinner between workmates. And she _was_ feeling a little hungry, plus it would be rude not to accept his offer, and she didn't want to be rude to him after what he'd just treated her to.

"I'd like that," she told him with a small smile. He seemed pleased, and she actually began to feel remorseful about what she'd done to the invitations. Now that she thought about it, it _was _a pretty low move on her part.

She shook the thought out of her head. It wasn't like anyone would take what she'd written seriously. In fact, she was sure hardly anybody was even coming.

**Well?! Did anyone guess who the dance teacher is?!**

**The motorcycle was invented sometime around 1884/1885, I forget which exactly. I'm putting Olivier's age at about 35 in this story, so she would have been around four when they first started hitting the streets. And say what you will, but in my mind the Briggs characters would make the ultimate motorcycle gang. Buccaneer in particular looks like he was made to wear a Harley jacket, and I could see Miles on a bike too. :D **

**Well, I'm off to the bahamas for a week! I won't have internet access, so don't expect an update right away, but I look forward to reading reviews when I come back. :) **


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